


Pedestal

by Kantayra of Yore (Kantayra)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-12-04
Updated: 2004-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-21 00:42:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/219031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kantayra/pseuds/Kantayra%20of%20Yore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the past two years since Glory's defeat and Buffy's death, Tara's feelings for Spike have  developed into something she never imagined she could feel for a man, and she resigns herself to mooning  after the vampire. However, one winter morning, she discovers that things have taken a change for the  better...and stranger... Set in an AU post-S5 world.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Loves Long Lost

“Watch out, dove!”

Tara looked up just in time to see a ball of fiery magical energy heading straight for her. Before she could duck, Spike had followed up his warning with a lunge and his weight crashed into her, sending them both tumbling to the dewy cemetery grass.

Spike had somehow managed to twist their bodies in mid-air so that he landed on the bottom, and Tara let out a startled gasp when she suddenly found herself atop his hard, lean, _masculine_ body. A mental voice which sounded oddly like Willow reminded her _Gay now!_ even as her body responded to his touch.

And then their opponent struck at them once more, and Spike quickly rolled them over, pulling her along with him behind a nearby crypt. And this time he came out of top, using his body as a shield for hers.

Tara knew that there was a big fight going on – apocalypse big. She knew that she was needed and that she didn’t have time to dwell on such trivial matters. But she’d only felt a man on top of her once before. That had been back home, one of her brother’s cruel friends, who’d decided one day that he’d have a bit of fun with the “cow.” She’d screamed and struggled and had been eventually forced to use her magic against him. Her father and brother’s response had been to call her whore for tempting poor Jimmy and to punish her with more chores for having done “the devil’s work” in using magic. So it wasn’t really a big surprise that she’d been turned off of men early in life. Now, however, she was discovering that some of the less-fair sex were quite comfortable after all…

“You all right, luv?” Spike’s whispered accent sounded like honey in her ear, and he pressed down even tighter against her when another blast struck the crypt that protected them, sending flying shards of stone in their direction.

“F-Fine…” Tara managed to gasp out. In truth, she was more than fine. She’d never imagined that she could feel pleasure from touching a man’s body, but Spike was hard without being sharp, heavy but not crushing, strong and powerful but always so tender…at least, with people he wasn’t trying to kill.

Sensing that their attacker’s attention had turned elsewhere, Spike rolled off Tara and peered around the corner of what remained of the Amberson crypt. Their Velatrix Demon had gotten caught up in a hand-to-hand battle with Rona – the newest, if not best, Slayer. That meant that the nasty projectile magic was gone until the Slayer lost her distracting power.

“’m going in,” he turned back to where Tara was just now shakily rising to her knees. “See if I can buy you more time to get that neutralizin’ spell done.”

Tara nodded and leaned against the remains of the stone wall beside him, a pang of anxiety resting deep in her stomach. Those pyrotechnics were powerful. If Spike got hit – which he most likely would, given his foolhardy plan – he’d be dust in an instant. She squeezed her eyes shut tight for a second to fight back frightened tears.

“You ready?”

Her eyes snapped open at the nearness of his voice. He face was only a few inches from hers, his deep blue eyes looking into hers intently. A thought flitted through her mind: _This might be the last chance you ever get…_ Her eyes dropped shyly to his lips, and she hesitantly leaned forward…

And the sounds of the fight caused him to snap his head to the side, completely missing her intentions. “’m off,” he whispered before he leapt back out into the line of fire, leaving Tara panting and cursing at herself for the missed opportunity.

Pushing aside the thoughts, as she’d become so skilled at doing over the past months, she sat up in a lotus position, closed her eyes, and put herself into a meditative trance. Concentration was difficult what with the explosions and cries that sounded all around her, but Tara managed to find that deep, quiet place inside her and gently embraced it, feeling a sense of calm take over her body. Slowly, she reached out, feeling the earth around her first, sensing life and taking comfort from it. Carefully reaching further, she found the combatants, brushed lightly against their awarenesses as she sought out her target. For one brief moment, her mind and Spike’s met in a brief caress, and she almost cried aloud at how _right_ he felt against her… She wanted to stay there, with him, forever, but she had important work to do, and…

 _There!_ She found the Velatrix Demon and eased her own magic through its shields, like a wedge in a door. She applied gentle, repeated pressure, building up an opening in the shield. It was a painfully slow process at the moment, especially when she felt Spike’s telepathic scream of pain, but the demon never spotted this most gentle of attacks. Several small nudges – more suggestions, really – and the shield snapped open, and—

Tara barely had time to pull back before the dark, powerful magic struck. She quickly retreated back into her own head, her shields at their highest as Willow bombarded their opponent with every dirty trick she knew. Tara heard the beast’s final cry of agony as it melted under the white-hot waves.

As she gasped for breath, mind contracted to shield herself from the pain, she could have sworn there was one moment of complete, perfect silence. One of those moments of clarity that come only so often in a lifetime. She rose to her feet shakily and spotted Willow gasping in agony, held up by Xander and Anya. And she felt sorry for her former lover. But, for once, there was no pang of hurt as she looked at Willow.

The darker magics that Willow now commanded had been what had initially broken them up. Tara had felt the danger in them and, indeed, Willow had strayed more than once. But Willow was still fighting for the right side, so Tara had been unable to figure out just what kept her away from her fellow witch for so long. But she’d just felt it now.

Their magic was… _different_ now. Not compatible as it used to be. They’d grown apart, Willow to the casual dating scene of UC Sunnydale and Tara to…

In marked contrast to her sympathetic wince at Willow’s pain, Tara swore she felt her heart stop for an instant when she saw that Spike was injured. Breaking into a run, she was at his side in an instant, just as Rona reached him as well.

“What happened?” she asked the Slayer anxiously, pulling the handkerchief from her pocket and dabbing at the blood on Spike’s brow.

He groaned and tried to push her away. Never one to be pampered. When his eyes flickered open and he recognized who was doing to wound-tending, however, he gave it up. No use protesting when the Good Witch wanted to make things better, he’d long ago realized.

“He caught the tail-end of that thing’s…tail,” Rona explained, helping Tara to lift Spike to a sitting position. He gave her a dark scowl, and the young Slayer instantly backed off, leaving him to Tara’s tender mercies. “That was one huge mother,” she added, shuddering slightly.

“You’ll find bigger’n that,” Spike retorted with an irritated scowl that only a good head hit can bring on. “Best learn not to fuss ‘bout the size of your opponents.”

“Yeah,” Rona sounded less than enthused, “I’ll be sure to do that.”

Tara gave Rona a sympathetic smile for what the poor girl had to put up with in having Spike as a trainer. Rona gave her a wink in response before going over to help Willow. At least the Watcher-in-training accepted help when it was offered, unlike certain pigheaded vampires.

Tara sighed at that and slung Spike’s arm over her shoulder, even though that vampire healing already miraculously made him able to walk without trouble. She knew only too well that he was faking it, though, pretending to be better off than he actually was. She’d only seen him do it a thousand times.

“My car’s parked in the east lot,” she commented softly, guiding him from the battlefield.

He snorted at that but offered nothing else.

Tara bit her lip. He’d been known to put himself intentionally in danger in the past. And, while his recklessness had lessened over the past two years, she still couldn’t bear to think that he still wanted… “You need to be more careful,” she commented, almost to herself, as she left to him enter the passenger side of her car by himself.

He let out a little grunt. “Not gonna abandon my Bit,” he promised with a sigh, watching her profile as she started the car.

All too aware of his gaze, Tara kept her expression neutral. She couldn’t help but feel a pang of disappointment deep inside, however. He’d never pretended that he had any other reason to live but to keep his final promise to Buffy to protect Dawn. Two years later, he was still keeping that promise…

And, of course, it was all Dawn’s fault that Tara was in this predicament in the first place. In fact, she had composed a neat list of the Top Five Things That Dawn Did To Make Me Fall In Love With Spike. Dawn thought the list was hilarious. Tara was amused by it as well, although she felt a pang of sadness at how Willow-like the list was. Sometimes she longed for the days when her life had been simple, and she’d been a lesbian witch in love with another lesbian witch. And it was quite a testament to how bizarre romance was on the Hellmouth that that was an _easy_ relationship…

“Just take me to the crypt,” Spike broke the comfortable silence that had settled between them. “Don’t wanna worry my girl.”

Tara shook her head at that. “You know she’ll be over first thing in the morning with bandages,” she teased lightly.

A distant, fond smile lit up his face. “That’s my Bit,” he agreed proudly.

Tara turned down the appropriate street to Restfield Cemetery. She was sure Spike could hear her heart pounding a mile a minute and – while she was at it – he could probably smell her excitement at being alone with him as well. Neither of these were good things, given that he was a vampire in love with a dead woman. In order to distract herself from this hopelessly embarrassing situation, she quickly ran over the list in her head again, ready to give Dawn a mock-lecture as soon as she got home about pointing out the sexy features of taken vampires.

1) Dawn had Spike for a de facto guardian.

Ever since Tara had become Dawn’s legal guardian after Buffy’s tragic death, this meant that Spike would spend hours in the evenings in her home, hanging around and spending time with Dawn. Thus, it was _Dawn’s_ fault that Tara had first learned to see Spike as a person with real feelings, rather than just a neutered vampire.

And no one in their right mind could see the tenderness with which he treated his “li’l sis” and not feel their heart melt just a little bit…

2) Because Dawn was Spike’s nearest and dearest friend (and, to be honest, Tara had to admit that she was his closest friend after Dawn…), whenever Spike was injured, he inevitably turned to the Maclay residence for help.

This meant that Tara had stripped Spike out of virtually every item of clothing he wore, bathed nearly every inch of his body, and cared for him when he was at his weakest and most vulnerable. In particular, he’d gotten in a rather nasty scrape with a dozen or so demons the week after Tara had finally called it off with Willow for good. It really wasn’t healthy for a girl to be contemplating her newly-found singleness while bandaging and tending to one of the most beautiful male bodies in the world.

And he was beautiful. Even when she’d still insisted she was firmly gay, she’d allowed herself to appreciate his body abstractly. The way she would appreciate any fine work of art. The fact that this particular work of art moved and breathed (although only when he chose) and _felt_ only made her heart melt faster her when those passionate blue eyes focused on her…

3) Supposing she’d managed to remain thoroughly oblivious to his looks while she cleaned him up, it was rather impossible to remain oblivious to his charms when Dawn pointed them out every five minutes.

In retrospect, Tara guessed that Dawn had caught a couple of Tara’s more appreciative looks at Spike’s body and had played off of the interest she saw. Actually, it wasn’t unlike the way Dawn had reacted when Spike’s interest in Buffy had become apparent. One parental figure develops feelings for the other… What teenager in the world _wouldn’t_ start pushing for a full family life, complete with her ‘parents’ finally getting together? Especially after the trauma Dawn had suffered after her own parents’ divorce.

Two long summers had been spent now, girl-talking the night away. Tara was convinced they’d examined every inch of Spike’s body in their more lustful talks, and somehow Dawn had managed to steer every conversation so that Tara came away wanting nothing more than to taste every inch of that body. Typical questions like: “What’s more gorgeous: Spike’s eyes or cheekbones?” Or, “How good a kisser do you think the Spike is?” The ever popular, “Isn’t that thing he does with the tongue the sexiest thing in the whole world?” And, of course, “Doesn’t the smell of his shirts just make you want to lick him all over?” Those just didn’t help matters. And, inevitably, the conversations turned more and more towards Dawn posing a question and then Tara sighing for hours about whatever aspect of Spike they’d chosen to discuss that night. She still blushed sometimes at some of the naughtier things she’d said during those conversations…

4) But it hadn’t been enough for Dawn to get Tara to talk about how much she wanted Spike. Oh no, the conniving little Key had to start sending subtle little hints Spike’s way, too.

Dawn had decided that spring when they went shopping together that Tara’s wardrobe needed a bit of ‘sexification’. Tara had blushed at that, but some of the new outfits Dawn had suggested weren’t hideous. She’d even gotten herself a short, black leather jacket that Dawn had insisted she looked hot in. Dawn had then promptly made Tara model it for Spike, who had licked his lips and pronounced her “good enough to eat.”

Tara had always been under the distinct impression that men didn’t find her type attractive. She knew only too well that she’d never have a model’s build. And she just wasn’t the type that drew male eyes. But Dawn’s alterations had drawn Spike’s eyes more than once. And each time Tara had blushed and felt her heart beat just a little bit faster. Damn that clever girl and her clever seduction techniques, giving Tara even the slightest of hopes that Spike would ever…

Tara shook it off, earning a curious look from Spike. She waved one hand in the air dismissively, letting him know she was just thinking. Her cheeks tinged slightly that he’d caught her thinking about _him_. Not that he was ever far from her thoughts lately…

5) Dawn’s most evil campaign of all. The one where she secretly set Tara and Spike up on ‘dates’ and then left them alone together, hinting oh-so-not-subtly that Tara should make her move.

There had been that night when Dawn had invited Spike over for the kung fu movie marathon, only to slip out halfway through, leaving the two adults to keep each other company for the next three hours.

And then there had been Xander and Anya’s wedding where Dawn had practically shoved them into each other’s arms for the dance.

And, of course, the infamous ‘aborted lunch date’ where Dawn had agreed to meet with both of them at the corner coffeehouse for lunch and then had cancelled on them both so that they were left to eat with each other.

Not that Tara hadn’t enjoyed all three ‘non-dates’. She’d been afraid that she wouldn’t have anything to talk about with Spike at first, but then she’d discovered his interest in poetry and, well… Emily Dickinson had been thoroughly mocked by both parties, Keats had been analyzed from cover to cover, and Shakespeare’s sonnets had become a bit of a game with them, each trying to stump the other.

Tara had seen his heart and body before, and found them breathtaking. What she hadn’t realized was that there was a talented mind hidden beneath all that bleach and leather, as well…

“Thanks for the lift, luv,” Spike spared her a small smile when she pulled up against the cemetery wall that was just a quick jump from his crypt.

“You want me to come in and help stitch you up?” she offered, parking the car. She frowned when she noticed his forehead was bleeding again and quickly readjusted the makeshift bandage she’d made of her handkerchief. He squirmed slightly like he always did, and one hand caught in his hair to hold him steady while she examined him. She tried not to dwell too much on how soft it felt – like silver-spun silk…

“’S not bad,” he countered. “I’ll be fine.”

She bit her lip in disappointment. One of these days, she was just going to have to accept the fact that he didn’t go out of his way like she did to spend time together.

An unreadable expression crossed his face when she pulled back as if slapped, and an apologetic smile curved his lips. _“‘O never say that I was false of heart…’”_ he began in peace offering.

She smiled shyly at that. _“‘…Though absence seemed my flame to qualify’,”_ she countered.

He pouted and hit the dashboard playfully. “Bugger! There’s just no way you can know 154 sonnets…”

She laughed at his display. “Try me,” she challenged.

His eyes seemed to darken, and he leaned in for a moment so that he was dangerously close, and she could smell that musky Spike scent she’d come to love against her lips. “Might just try that some day, pet,” he practically purred.

Her eyelids drifted shut, savoring the moment, but then he was gone, shutting the car door behind him with a bang. Tara watched wistfully as he vanished over the cemetery wall before taking a deep breath and restarting the car.

It required all her focus to keep her eyes glued to the road on the way back to the apartment she shared with Dawn. She found that focusing on the mundane details could almost block out the memories that she’d been close enough to kiss Spike twice that evening. _Stop. 30 miles per hour. School crossing. Slippery when wet. When are roads ever NOT slippery when wet?_ She wondered. _And wasn’t Spike hot when he wet his lips right before—Argh!_

She didn’t allow mental screams of frustration much, but then she’d never felt like this, either. He wasn’t her usual type – all primal sexuality, while she was more quiet and subtle – but being around him seemed to bring out the passionate elements of her personality. Passion she hadn’t even been fully aware she felt before…

With a relieved sigh, she pulled into her and Dawn’s apartment complex. The second floor light was on, indicating that Dawn was still up. Tara pursed her lips and checked her watch. Okay, so it was the last school night before Christmas break, and Dawn probably didn’t have to be all that awake for tomorrow. She’d let it slide this once…

When she entered the apartment, however, she was surprised to hear Dawn’s worried and slightly frightened voice on the phone. Dropping her keys on the table, she hastened to her ward’s room, frowning.

Dawn breathed an audible sigh when she saw Tara. _Willow_ , she mouthed before turning back to the receiver. “Tara just came in. Here she is, bye!”

Before Tara could even react, the phone was thrust into her hand, and Dawn was leaping back as if the thing were toxic. Over a year ago now, Willow had had a little magical accident, and Dawn had come away hysterical and with a broken arm. The two had never really patched up their relationship after that, and Dawn had promptly chosen Tara as her guardian in the subsequent weeks.

“Willow, what’s up?” Tara asked anxiously. Had Willow been more hurt in the fight that night than she let on? Tara really hadn’t been paying too much attention to her ex, she realized guiltily…

“What took you so long to get back?” Willow asked instead, sounding a bit huffy about it. She’d been rather bossier around Tara ever since she’d finally given up on their relationship and had picked up other girlfriends.

Tara frowned and pursed her lips. “I had to drop off Spike,” she said simply. Dawn raised an eyebrow and gave Tara a little grin, causing the witch’s lips to twitch into a smile. “Now, what’s happening?” she demanded firmly.

“Xander and Anya are leaving.”

Willow’s proclamation puzzled Tara for a second. “Leaving…how?” she inquired.

“Leaving town, leaving,” Willow clarified. “Xander got a higher-paying job up in San Francisco, and they’re going to move away.”

Tara bit her lip. This was news, indeed. “What about Anya and the Magic Box?” she wondered.

Willow let out a bark of laughter. “It’s _San Francisco_ ,” she repeated. “Probably the biggest magic market on the West Coast. She’s already rented a store up there and everything.”

Tara sat down on the edge of Dawn’s bed, stunned by the surprising news. Dawn sat beside her and squeezed her hand, obviously moved by it as well.

“W-Well, good for them,” Tara smiled softly. “It sounds like a great opportunity, and they can start their family away from—”

“Did you not hear me?” Willow cut her off. “They’re _leaving_!”

Tara winced at the anger in the other witch’s voice. “Yeah, I heard you…” she began hesitantly.

“How can they just _leave_?” Willow began to rant. “I mean, this will throw all our patrolling plans into complete disarray! Don’t they understand that I _need_ them here? They can’t just go away!”

Dawn winced in sympathy, and Tara gathered that this sort of wrath was what had had the teen so disturbed in the first place. Willow had turned into a bit of a control freak the past couple of years, and it got very trying at times.

“I-I’m sure we can manage without them,” Tara tried to soothe Willow. “It’s not like they ever did much of the fighting, anyway.”

“It’s not about that,” Willow brushed her words aside. “It’s about numbers and patrol routes a-and…” Her argument seemed to deflate with weariness. “My best friend’s leaving town and might not ever come back,” she finally admitted numbly.

Tara sighed at the glimpse of the Willow she had once loved. “I’m so sorry, sweetie,” she said sympathetically.

A sniff on the other end of the line. “I-I’m sorry I called you. I probably shouldn’t have, but…”

“It’s okay,” Tara quickly reassured her. “I’m always available to talk if you need it.”

“Thanks.” Tara could almost see the brave smile Willow was forcing on her face.

“Maybe you should just get some rest,” Tara advised. “It’s late, and I’m sure things will seem clearer in the morning.”

“You’re right,” Willow agreed reluctantly.

Tara fiddled nervously with the silver bracelet around her wrist. This was always the hardest question to ask. “You’re not going to try any magic, are you?” she blurted out nervously.

“Oh, god, no!” Willow insisted vehemently. “After that fight tonight? I’ll have a headache into next week. My nose is still bleeding.”

Tara sighed. “You really should lay off more,” she suggested.

A pause. “I leaned my lesson about memory spells,” Willow insisted. “I’m not going to try to change Xander’s mind magically, if that’s what you’re worried about.” There was a bit of irritation at her voice.

“I wasn’t worried about that,” Tara insisted. But deep in the back of her mind, she still didn’t entirely trust Willow and had felt the need to ask.

“Yeah, well, I know you have classes tomorrow.” Willow’s voice was now more distant, as if she’d abruptly remembered this wasn’t her faithful lover anymore. “We’ll meet tomorrow at the usual time in the Magic Box to plan?”

“See you at eight,” Tara promised.

“Right then, bye.”

“Bye,” Tara repeated right as the receiver went dead.

“She got mad when you mentioned the big mind-wipe spell, huh?” Dawn guessed, noticing Tara’s drawn features.

Tara nodded before shaking her worries off. It was Willow’s life, after all, not hers. “She can live with a good reminder every now and then,” she insisted, getting up to leave.

“Hey, wait a minute!” Dawn protested, a wicked little smile on her lips. “You’re just gonna leave without telling about this mysterious drive you gave Spike home?”

An equally wicked smirk curved Tara’s lips. It was so easy to think about this and not about the problems with all their friends. “It is almost one in the morning, missy,” she retorted in the Stern Mom Voice that always made Dawn laugh. “And you have school tomorrow. But, if you go to bed right now, I _might_ be persuaded to tell you how close my lips got to those of a certain sexy and completely nameless vampire after I get back from work.”

“Ooh!” Dawn’s eyes widened at the scent of gossip. “Did you—?”

“Tomorrow,” Tara insisted before flicking off the light.

Dawn took advantage of the sudden darkness to stick out her tongue before humphing and lying down in bed.

“And I _know_ you just stuck your tongue out at me,” Tara’s teased from the hallway with a laugh, before heading to bed herself.

With a yawn, she reluctantly walked past the oh-so-tempting bed and settled down in the magical circle she’d sown into her carpet. She’d found it was much faster to just have a permanent one at her disposal, especially on nights when she was this tired. She really was sorely tempted to head straight to bed, but she knew that if she didn’t do her meditation routine tonight, she’d end up with a headache as bad as Willow’s in the morning.

It took her longer to center herself that evening than it usually did. Weariness combined with all the stresses of the day made it well nigh impossible for her to allow her mind to go blank. When she finally succeeded, however, she felt her entire body relax as she fell into the rhythm of the world around her. Flickers of calm, green life brushed her consciousness, replenishing her strength and offering her their comfort.

And, before she realized what was happening, she felt herself drifting away into thought, finally able to process all that had happened during the day in her more composed state…

 _Willow’s getting too controlling again. Someone needs to give her another talk…_

 _The group’s falling apart. I bet if Buffy were still here, Xander and Anya would’ve stayed…_

 _Rona’s not taking to the Slayer role very well. If something doesn’t change fast, she might not make it…_

 _Am I being too lenient on Dawn? Am I not enough family for her?_

And, of course, the ever-persistent:

 _Goddess, I want Spike. If only he wasn’t still in love with Buffy…_

And, in a moment of clarity, the common thread came to her: _I can’t handle all of this. I’m not Buffy. I’m not a Slayer or a sister or a leader or a best friend or a lover. Why can’t I be these things and fix everything? If only…_

With an abrupt start, she realized she’d drifted off right in the middle of her meditations. Shaking herself, she pulled back into her body and made ready to go to bed. It always shook her up a bit whenever that happened, and it wasn’t often. She knew it could be dangerous to let her mind drift like that while in a magical trance. Fortunately, all the forces she dealt with were benevolent. She shuddered to think of what would happen if Willow were to drift in a similar matter, given the magics she’d taken to.

Yawning and slipping under the covers, Tara flicked off the light and rested her head on the pillow. It had been a rather clever conclusion she’d come to, however. She’d never really thought of herself as envious before, but now she realized that Buffy had absolutely everything Tara wanted, even in death. It was a silly ideal, of course. She could never _be_ Buffy.

But one image stuck clearly in her mind. Buffy had been beautiful in life, and that alone was enough to make Tara pale in comparison. But at that moment when Buffy leapt off the tower, the first rays of dawn catching her hair as she made the ultimate sacrifice of life and love… She had been breathtaking, a goddess. And more than even Buffy in life, Tara didn’t have a chance to compete with the shinning image of Buffy in death. Really, it was no wonder that Spike would always be in love with the former Slayer after a spectacular exit like that. Always Buffy’s and never hers…

And, despite the depressing turn of her thoughts, weariness fully overcame her then, and she drifted off into sleep.

Thus it was that she didn’t see the shimmer of green and white light spark into existence in the magic circle she’d just vacated. Didn’t sense the friendly spirit that approached her, surrounded her with its comforting glow. Didn’t hear the spirit’s thoughts as it watched her sleep.

 _Poor, lonely child_ , it reflected upon the thoughts it had felt from this kind creature while she was meditating. _This will make things better for you…_

A moment’s thought, and then streams of mystical energy flitted out into the night. One smoke-like filament drifted into Tara’s body, suddenly hardening her form, making her stronger, more warrior-like. A dozen or so other streams vanished through the walls, moving towards the necessary targets and effecting subtlest changes of memory, making this kind soul’s unspoken wish come true.

Asleep, the Scooby Gang were as oblivious as Tara as the changes took place, each of their minds refitting to the new reality. The sole outward sign of any change occurred in a dark crypt where an injured vampire was tossing and turning the night away in fitful nightmares. The green energy filtered into his body, and suddenly his thrashing stilled and instead a small smile lit up his sleeping features, and a moaned name slipped past his lips: “Tara…”

Satisfied with its work, the spirit gathered its forces once more. _Be well, sweet child_ , its mind brushed Tara’s before, in a flash, it vanished, leaving a strange new world in its wake.


	2. Tara the Vampire Slayer

Tara had never had a dream like it. Her body thrashed and writhed against the blankets, fingers clutching tightly at tangled sheets. A sheen of sweat coated her skin as her body practically burned at the visions behind her shut eyelids. But, unconscious, she was unaware of the oddity, consumed completely by the images playing out in her sleep…

 _Her prey was trapped. Her eyes were shut, but she could sense it, feel it… With predatory grace, she circled round, eyes intent on her victim now, watching him watch her, savoring the flicker of fear in his eyes at would she would do._

 _Her blood boiled in excitement and slowly she moved in, setting one knee on the end of the bed and then the other, crawling sensuously, one step at a time, up the naked body of her prisoner. Every inch of him was perfect sculpted beauty, and she reveled in it. Hers, all hers…_

 _“Tara…” The little whimper escaped the back of his throat, and she looked up at him with feral eyes. He was needy, vulnerable, begging her for the pain/pleasure that only she could bring him. He was…_

 _“Mine!” she snarled, twining her fingers roughly into his platinum curls and covering his mouth with hers violently. He moaned beneath her as her tongue and teeth tormented him, taking everything she wanted from him and savoring her power._

 _Desperate for more now, he thrashed against the chains that bound him, but he was helpless. Completely and utterly at her mercy…_

 _“Mine,” she repeated with a hiss, pulling away to gasp for breath._

 _Slowly, Spike nodded and gulped. “Yours,” he agreed with a submissive whimper._

 _A sense of victory surged through her veins at her conquest, and she rewarded him by taking pity on his needy flesh. Her tongue trailed over his chest hungrily, tasting the salt and desire on his pale skin and causing it to quiver beneath her. Her hands roamed the muscular planes of his body, nails scratching lightly only to occasionally scratch deep, marking him as hers._

 _His hips began thrusting up against her in abandon, begging her to tend to the most sensitive part of him. Smiling with feline feminine satisfaction, she rose over him once more, pressing her lips to the now-silent pulse-point on his throat._

 _“Do you want me?” she breathed huskily._

 _“Fuck yeah,” he gasped out, breathing unnecessarily in heavy pants._

 _“Do you want me to fuck you hard?” Even in her dream world, she couldn’t believe those words had escaped her lips._

 _“Please, pet,” he whimpered raggedly. “Need to be in you, need to feel you, love you so much.”_

 _She clutched his hair hard and pulled his head back so that his eyes couldn’t escape hers. Such pretty blue eyes… Before she even knew what she was doing, she had a stake pressed to his chest. His eyes widened in a mixture of fear and excitement._

 _“Don’t move an inch,” she ordered, “and maybe I won’t stake you.” And then, as if to torture him, she lowered her body onto his thick, hard cock and – oh god – she was complete…_

*Beep, Beep*

*Beep, Beep*

Tara flailed wildly in sheets in sudden surprise at being jerked awake. Her eyes scanned the room wildly for an instant before she realized where she was and breathed a sigh of relief. Belatedly, she registered that it was the alarm clock that had awoken her and reached out blindly to hit the off switch.

And, oh, did she hit it. Her head jerked up in amazement when she felt the clock shatter beneath her hand. For a second, she frowned at the smashed parts, completely baffled. _Can they even get away with manufacturing that faulty…?_

Of course, that thought was far to the back of her mind right now. At the forefront was the rather disturbing dream she’d just had. She’d dreamt about Spike before, but never like this. Never with violence and blood, causing him pain and…

It puzzled her to think of it now. Obviously, something was awry in her subconscious, even if she wasn’t sure what. Maybe her frustration at herself for not being able to make a move was finally getting the better of her. One thing she did thank the dream for, though, was that secret yummy image of naked Spike handcuffed to her bed. She’d never really spared much of a thought for bondage before, but just that image in her mind’s eye had her hot all over again.

Or had she remained hot all along? Belatedly, she noticed the sweat-soaked sheets and the palpable ache between her thighs. A wave of overwhelming _lust_ flooded over her body, unlike anything she’d ever felt before. For a moment she just lay back, eyes staring wide up at the ceiling, before she shakily got up to go to the bathroom.

This was certainly new, this feeling of raw desire and nearly insurmountable impulse. Remembering the old saying, she turned the shower spray on cold and got in. Wow. If just an erotic dream about Spike could do this to her body, what would…?

She shook her head at that. The twinges of lust were subsiding now, and she very much doubted that thinking about Spike’s penis would help matters. And, now that she thought about it, it was a bit odd that her thoughts were this penis-centric this morning. Oh, she knew he had one – that had been her internal crisis for quite some time now – but, before, her affections had always focused on the timbre of his voice and the dimples of his smile and passion in his words. Well, and just a little bit of healthy erotica thrown in for fun every now and then…

She sighed and lathered up her hair. “Tara,” she muttered to herself, “you need to get yourself a girlfriend…” _Or Spike_ , back-of-the-mind voice added. _Spike would be good…_

Her mind flashed back to that dream – although she strategically edited the less-than-happy parts. But crawling up his naked body, tasting the salt of his flesh, feeling him pressed up intimately against her… Never had she had a dream so… _vivid_.

Her skin began to flush again despite the tepid water, and she quickly turned her mind to other matters. She had a quiz in her one class that morning, and she didn’t want to be distracted. Finally rising her hair, she shut off the water, opened the shower door and…

“Wow.”

Now, Tara had long since resigned herself to the fact that she wasn’t beautiful. At least not in the conventional sense. Her father and brother had reminded her of her faults all too often for her ever to forget them. Her thighs were too wide, and her waist wasn’t slim enough, and her hair was a limp mousy brown, and her face was too soft. But this morning she looked…good.

She stood in front of the mirror and studied her naked body for a minute. The changes weren’t spectacular, just a bit of fat replaced by taut muscle here and there. She’d never been much of an athlete, but she looked as much as she could like one now. Impressive.

 _Guess hanging around for all Rona’s training sessions has done me some good, after all_ , she thought, turning away from the mirror and brushing her teeth. She couldn’t help but smile at memories of those lessons. While Rona had punched happily away at the punching bag a few months back, Spike had smiled and approached her and asked if she wanted to pick up a few moves herself. Just basic self-defense stuff, ways to knock her opponents off balance for the few seconds she needed to cast a spell. It was an offer she hadn’t been able to refuse, although she was a particularly poor student. Two left feet when it came to fighting and very little inclination to break free of Spike’s holds saw to that…

Mood quite light despite the morning’s semi-odd occurrences, she returned to her bedroom to get dressed. She could hear Dawn moving around in the kitchen, and hurriedly dressed and brushed her still-wet hair. Never time to blow-dry it…

“Morning, Dawnie,” she said with a smile, dropping her backpack onto the table before retrieving an apple from the refrigerator. “You’re up early today…”

“Yeah. So?” Dawn said sullenly, munching on her cereal.

Tara raised an eyebrow at the teenager’s downward mood swing from last night. “We’ve got a press deadline on Monday, so I might be back later than usual from work,” she offered. “If I leave you money, can you get takeout?”

“Sure. Fine.” Dawn scrambled to finish her cereal and dumped the bowl in the sink, practically racing to leave the apartment.

Tara frowned. “Is something wrong?” she ventured hesitantly.

“No,” Dawn retorted with a flick of her hair, “of course not. Why would anything be wrong?”

Tara knew that voice only too well. Stubborn Teenager Concentrate. Ah well, there was one thing that usually cheered Dawn up… “Were you planning on dropping by to see Spike before school?” she suggested.

And Dawn froze in her tracks, a frightened look in her eyes. “W-Why would I do that?” she let out a nervous laugh.

“Because he was injured last night?” Tara provided, downright puzzled by Dawn’s behavior right now. This was almost bordering on ‘weird demonic possession’ strange behavior…

“So, what if I was?” Dawn snapped angrily. “He’s my friend, and nothing you can say will change my mind. A-And if I want to see him, I will. And mom never objected to me seeing him when _she_ was still alive!” she proclaimed triumphantly before rushing out the door and slamming behind her before Tara could even answer.

Leaving Tara wide-eyed and with only one thought in mind: _What on earth was THAT about?_

* * *

It wasn’t until just after lunch that the latest Sunnydale weirdness struck Tara once again. She’d managed to get through her English quiz with flying colors and had gotten to work early. Dawn’s momentary weirdness that morning slipped her mind amid the normal daily bustle, and the downright grammatical agony of editing the articles for next month’s UC Sunnydale Press kept her preoccupied well into the afternoon.

Until Willow showed up at the paper office, and things took a turn for the stranger once more.

“Hey, Will,” she managed a soft smile. “Feeling better this morning?”

Willow flashed her a bright smile and took the vacant seat in the desk next to Tara’s. “Don’t ask me to do a spell like that one again anytime soon,” she agreed with a shake of her head. “Wow, that was a doozy.”

“Headache still?”

“Nah. Just a little wired. But we got that scaly thing good,” she added proudly.

Tara’s lips curved into a smile, and she scratched out an entire incoherent sentence from the sports page. “You’d think some of these people didn’t even speak English…” she sighed.

“What’s scarier to slay?” Willow teased. “The demons or the bad spelling?”

Tara laughed at that. It had been a long time, indeed, since she’d seen Willow this lighthearted. It was a bit of a relief, actually. Maybe she’d been worrying too much about her ex… “So, how are you feeling about this Xander and Anya thing today?” she ventured hesitantly, hoping this wouldn’t break Willow’s good mood.

The redhead sat back and rolled her eyes. “As well as can be expected, I suppose. I mean, it is _Anya_ , after all…”

Willow had always had less than fluffy feelings for the ex-vengeance demon. And Tara really couldn’t blame her. She’d come to like Anya quite a lot, but some of the things that came out of that woman’s mouth made _Spike_ blush… “But you’re not freaking so much?” Tara pressed. “That’s good.”

Willow shrugged. “I’m not thinking about it too much right now. Finishing up end of the semester work and all…”

Tara nodded before considering something. “Have you noticed anything…odd today?” she finally ventured hesitantly.

Willow frowned at that. “Odd how?” she demanded.

“It’s probably nothing,” Tara shook it off. “Just a weird dream and Dawn acting a bit grumpier than usual this morning.”

“Ah, the eternal hormone bomb of a sister,” Willow agreed with a grin.

Tara smiled at that, too. And then her brow furrowed. That statement had actually been a bit odd itself… “What do you mean?” she inquired confusedly.

“Dawn? Sister? Hormone bomb? All the time?” Willow clarified off-handedly, frowning at the computer screen before Tara. “Did that person _really_ write ‘there next game is Tuesday’?” She shook her head sadly, oblivious to Tara’s sudden agitation.

“Willow…” Tara began very slowly. “Who is Dawn’s sister exactly?”

“You, of course,” Willow laughed before her face fell. “Well, actually she’s nobody’s since she’s actually a mystical key and all, but she was made from your blood and the monks did that big mind-wipe and made everyone just _think_ she was your sister, but then you declared that she was anyway no matter what, so I suppose it doesn’t matter that—”

“Dawn’s not my sister,” Tara cut of the miniature babble-fest, consternated now.

Willow frowned. “Like I said, mystical key made from—”

“No, not my blood,” Tara insisted with a shake of her head. “Buffy’s blood!”

A pause. “Is it April Fool’s Day and someone forgot to tell me again?” Willow joked. “And what does my ex have to do with it?”

“Your ex?” Tara was beginning to feel a bit shaky now. Something was seriously wrong here.

“Buffy?” Willow reminded her. “My first girlfriend? Big lesbian coming out?”

“ _What_?!” Tara’s exclamation was loud enough that the entire pressroom froze in silence, watching the increasingly agitated brunette.

“Tara, calm down,” Willow glanced around apologetically.

Still feeling stunned and a little frightened, Tara took a deep breath and slumped back in her chair. Slowly, the pressroom around her returned to normal.

“Wow,” Willow commented softly, giving the freshman at the desk across from him her best Castrating Men Look when he continued to noticeably eavesdrop on their conversation. He hastily grabbed some papers and fled at her pointed stare. “I think you actually reacted better when I first told you about Buffy…” she tried for light, turning her attention back to Tara.

“Will,” Tara’s mind was racing a mile a minute now, trying to process the bizarre turn of events, “I was your first girlfriend. You _never_ dated Buffy.”

Willow tried to laugh. “Not that I’m not flattered, but…” She trailed off when she realized Tara was serious. Nervously, she shifted in her chair. “Y-You know when you asked me a couple minutes ago whether I’d noticed anything odd today?” she began hesitantly. “Well, I’m thinking you’re qualifying right about now…”

Tara sighed. “I was just about to say the same thing about you,” she said wearily, massaging her temple with one palm. “You _really_ think I’m Dawn’s sister? And you dated _Buffy_?”

“That’s not what you think…?” Willow responded anxiously with a little nod that indicated, yes, that was her recollection of events.

“Switch my name with Buffy’s and you get the world I’ve been living in,” Tara commented ruefully. “I guess we’ll have an extra long meeting at the Magic Box tonight…”

“You want me to call together a Scooby gathering?” Willow sounded relieved just by the very prospect of research.

Tara frowned. “You already scheduled one,” she began, “tonight at eight…?”

Willow slowly shook her head ‘no’.

Tara felt a pounding headache coming on. Had the entire world gone crazy? Had she gone crazy? Was this a demon? A spell? And, even though she’d been through similar crises over and over again during her stay of the Hellmouth, why did these things just never get easier?

“I-I think definite research is in order,” Willow offered. “I’ll call Xander and Anya, and we’ll figure out what’s going on, and…”

Tara grimaced at her computer screen. “I’ve _still_ got a deadline to meet. Why does work have to go on even in the midst of demonic catastrophes?”

Willow managed a shaky smile at that. “Because it’s evil,” she quipped. “But, yeah, you’d better stay. Mister Baker might fire you if you skip out of work again.”

“But I’ve never once skipped—” Tara froze in understanding.

Willow winced. “Another one?”

“Another one. Go, now. We _need_ that research.”

Willow nodded and practically sprinted from the room, leaving a thoroughly bewildered Tara to try to decipher the dull article before her…

* * *

By the time she headed out to the Magic Box that night, Tara’s headache was pounding. It was virtually impossible to focus on the mundane work knowing that something was seriously screwed up with Willow’s memories. Mister Baker had indeed been giving her the evil eye every time she looked up from her screen, leading Tara to believe that he’d lived Willow’s version of events, as well.

And that was troubling to her. The logical part of her brain said that, if she was in the minority about how the world was supposed to be, then in all likelihood there was something wrong with _her_. She didn’t feel like anything was wrong, of course. But, then, how would she know? And why would a spell-demon-possession-whatever make her believe that Dawn was someone else’s sister and that she herself had been Willow’s lover? It just didn’t make any sense. None of it made any sense.

But she had been feeling odd that morning. That dream… Maybe it had been an early sign that something was wrong with her, and she just hadn’t picked up on it. Maybe…

“Hello, pretty…” A deep voice hissed behind her, and before she knew what was happening she was gripped from behind by powerful arms.

She froze instantly in fear when she realized that her distraction had allowed her guard to slip. Her mind searched frantically for a way out of this, even as the vamp’s fangs grazed her neck.

“Pretty little girls shouldn’t walk in the night alone,” her captor continued to taunt her, savoring the honey-sweet smell of her fear.

And, in that instant, something inside Tara snapped. A _rage_ like nothing she’d ever felt before burst up inside of her. Faster than her mind could process what was happening, she’d flipped the vampire over onto the ground, snapped off a chair leg from the nearby dumpster, and plunged it straight through the vamp’s heart.

She froze in shock at what she’d done, her own stunned eyes met by the equally startled ones of her prey in the final instant before he collapsed into dust. Shaking now, she backed away slowly, finally backing up into the brick alley façade. A few moments panting and scattered confused thoughts, and then she finally registered the sound of one pair of hands clapping.

“Almost thought you’d lost your touch there, pet,” a familiar voice sounded from the darkness.

Her head whipped to the right just in time to see Spike emerge from the shadows. She breathed an instant sigh of relief. “Spike…” she breathed. “D-Did you see…?” She gulped at her close call.

He spared a raised eyebrow for the scattered ashes in the center of the alley. “Oh yes,” he taunted lightly. “Decided to wait until the last minute for the extra cheap thrill, did you?” He was prowling over to her now with an eerie, otherworldly grace that made her heart beat faster.

“I… It nearly k-killed me…” She hated her stutter, especially around him, but right now she was so overwhelmed, and the world seemed to have gone crazy – or else she had – and she just wanted him to offer a bit of the comfort he always did when she got into tough places during patrol, and why was he looking at her like… Oh.

He leaned in close, and one powerful hand reached up to brush back a lock of her hair. “You wanna get up close and _personal_ with a demon, luv,” he whispered in a deep, purring rasp, “feel free to call upon yours truly any time your li’l heart desires…”

She sighed and let her eyes drift closed for just a second. After the stress of her day, it felt so good to just have him here, have him close. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve been having,” she sighed. _“‘Is it thy will, thy image should keep open…’”_ she quoted.

He frowned in response. “When’d you get all poetic, Maclay?” he inquired with an amused tilt of his head.

That snapped her to. _Spike’s not like I remember, either._ Oh god, she couldn’t lose what she had with him, too… _“‘My heavy eyelids to the weary night?’”_ she completed in vain, looking at him hopefully.

“Yeah, yeah, and _‘dost thou desire my slumbers should be broken’_ ,” he added off-handedly. “Christ, Slayer, did you hit your head or something? Or…” He trailed off when he caught scent of her arousal, noticed her body not pulling away and moving to strike like she usually did when he got close. Acting as any proper hunter did when he realized his prey was momentarily weakened, he moved in for the kill…

And, suddenly, it all clicked in Tara’s head. _“Switch my name with Buffy’s…” “Slayer.”_ That was it! She was suddenly, by some bizarre providence, recast in the role of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Except still alive, of course…

It all fit now. The wild, impassioned dreams must’ve been the Slayer within’s influence. Smashing the alarm clock. Dawn bitching the way she would to a sister. Her insistence that Tara forbade her to see Spike the way Buffy had. Willow playing second fiddle to her own requests when discussing slay-related matters. The vamp she’d just staked. Spike coming on to her. And she was just willing to bet that whatever she’d discussed with Willow about Xander and Anya didn’t have anything to do with them leaving town… She’d thought this all the night before, and now it was coming true, and—

Her moment of realization was cut short when Spike’s lips came crashing down on hers. Her eyes widened for a second in surprised delight before she practically melted into the strong arms that held her, her own lips beginning to move against the hard yet surprisingly soft ones of the vampire she’d dreamed about for so long.

 _Oh, a girl could get used to this… Maybe this universe is not so bad_ , she thought in that moment. _Not so bad at all…_


	3. So Close and Yet So Far

Tara had been kissed before, but never like this. The kisses she had always known were sweet and soft. Soft bodies and even gentler lips. Fragrant perfumes of strawberries, flowers, and cinnamon. Chaste and pure and innocent as the freshly fallen snow on a clear winter’s day.

Spike’s kiss was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. He was raw and powerful, his mouth fiercely demanding, slanting down over hers again and again until she really did feel as though she would faint from the intensity of it. Feeling her knees buckling beneath her, she had little choice but to cling desperately to the lapels of his duster and hang on for the ride.

She breathed in deep of his scent – leather and tobacco, but also something more tantalizing. A heady musk that made her head swim. And, while he was hard and rough, there was a certain tenderness to his kiss as well. His tongue stroked hers, coaxing her to join him, teasing her with the rich, intoxicating taste of rum and bourbon. His hands caressed her body possessively, one coming to rest in the small of her back, holding her to him. The other slid up between them and began kneading her breast. She felt a wave of that overbearing lust she had felt that morning, and for a moment she thought the pleasure of it was too much for her to handle.

 _Mmm, Spike… Warmer than I would’ve guessed… Goddess, how do his hands already know just where to touch me? We’ve only been kissing for… Oh, I’m actually kissing Spike, and it’s as wonderful as I imagined and…_ Her pleasure-fogged thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he ground the hardness in his jeans directly between her thighs. She hadn’t even been conscious of spreading her legs for him.

She gasped, and he released her lips for the first time, choosing instead to trail long, wet kisses down her throat and down across her shoulder. She panted raggedly for breath, feeling that nearly unconquerable _lust_ bubbling up inside her. She knew what to call it now: Slayer. The power within her reveled at conquering its foe, even in such an unconventional way. And the woman in Tara couldn’t help but think that this was her wildest dream finally come true…

“Want you so much, Slayer,” his voice rumbled against her ear, sending delicious vibrations down her spine. “Make you scream, beg for more, I…”

Instinctively, her fingers clutched at the soft platinum hairs at the base of his neck, stroking him affectionately.

A little whimper escaped his lips. “Touch me…” he pleaded, voice suddenly sounding needy rather than demanding.

The Slayer within Tara screamed for her to claim her prize. Many times, in many different positions. Her rationality kicked in and told her to stop. “W-Wait…” she gasped out, feeling his hands on the waist of her pants, trying to decipher the locking mechanism. “Spike!” she exclaimed a bit more forcefully.

He finally paused at that and looked her right in the eyes. “Tara…” he breathed huskily, leaning in for another kiss.

She was prepared this time, however, and managed to get a hand between them to fend him off. Although she did notice to her consternation that her left hand continued to toy with his silky platinum locks. _Ah well, I deserve just a LITTLE treat after this killer day…_ She continued to pet him lightly.

“Stop,” she insisted regretfully, breath more controlled now.

A flash of anger lit up in the back of his eyes. “Oh, I get it,” he retorted with a sneer. “Back to tellin’ me I’m a dirty li’l secret, not worthy of your precious time, is that it?”

Tara blinked in surprise at the sudden anger in him. “Spike, what are you talking about?” she demanded.

“Right, my mistake,” he said with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. “’m _always_ the villain here, and your perfect self _never_ makes any mistakes unless ‘s demeaning yourself by lettin’ me touch you.”

Tara’s headache was getting worse by the minute. “Look, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but will you just _listen to me_?!” Her voice hit a high-pitched shriek on the last three words that stunned both of them speechless.

He blinked at her wide-eyed for a second, and she was sure she was doing the same thing. She couldn’t recall any time in her life she’d ever yelled like that before. She’s always been the calm, cool one, completely in control of her emotions at all times. How what it possible that he could strip away all those years of restraint merely with the brush of his lips and an irritating quirk of his eyebrow? How could he make her _feel_ —?

He noticed the sudden softness in her eyes as she looked at him and could almost feel his heart beating again. God, it felt like he’d waited his entire century and a half of existence just to see those emotions swirling about in the soft grays and blues of her eyes. He leaned in again to taste her lips and was thwarted once more.

“Listen to me,” Tara repeated more slowly this time, venturing to caress his cheek lightly with the backs of her knuckles. The gentle touch sent little thrills down her spine, while calming him at the same time. Oh, if only… She shook the thought off. It was important that she straightened things out right now. “I’m not who you think I am,” she explained slowly.

His scarred eyebrow quirked up. “Well, that’s creative new excuse,” he admitted incredulously.

She sighed. “Th-There’s a spell,” she tried again. His brow instantly furrowed in response. “A…memory spell of sorts!” She felt a wave of pride that she’d found a perfect analogy. “And, because of it, you think you want me, but you really don’t, and we can’t go through with it because, if we do, you’ll hate me afterwards. Trust me, this has happened to me before.” She pushed the painful memories of Willow’s spell to the back of her mind.

He looked skeptical, but at least she had his attention now.

“W-We’re having a Scooby meeting to t-try to fix this.” She hated her nervous stutters, even as she couldn’t help herself.

He seemed to find them endearing, however, and leaned in closer. “I see. We’ll fix it so you never wanted me at all, right? Erase your li’l shame…”

He sounded so broken when he said it that she couldn’t help but offer him comfort. “No,” she shook her head, “I-I’ll still want you every bit as much.” She bit her lip to prevent from pointing out that _he_ wouldn’t want _her_. She struggled for words to reassure him. “Imagine if…” Her eyes lit up with inspiration. “Imagine if Buffy and I switched places right now, and you thought you were in love with her. Wouldn’t you be mad if she took advantage?”

“What? Willow’s old bird that got one in the head?” He obviously found her analogy odd.

She frowned. “‘Got one in the head’?” she repeated, confused.

He held his hand up to his temple like a gun, flicked his thumb in imitation of pulling the trigger.

“Wow.” Tara’s eyes widened. “That girl just doesn’t have any luck in _any_ universe…”

“What was that?” He seemed to at least believe that there was something off about her now. His posture had changed from predatory to comforting. She felt marked relief at the change.

“Just thinking out loud,” she managed a weary smile. “Look, we’ve got this meeting and we need to figure out a way to fix this spell…” She pointed back to the Magic Box. “I’m sure the others are waiting for us right now.”

A spark of hope lit up his eyes. “You want my help, Slayer?” He seemed almost excited at the idea.

“Of course I want your help,” she agreed readily, if a little perplexed by his sudden enthusiasm. “When do I ever not?”

He stepped back and gestured for her to proceed him. “Whatever that spell is,” he mumbled under his breath, but her recently enhanced hearing was just enough to make it out, “’s done quite a number on your disposition, luv…”

Her heart nearly broke in response. Whatever he’d gone through in this universe, he was obviously still miserable. He stepped uncharacteristically shyly behind her when they entered the magic shop, and Tara found the chime over the door refreshingly soothing. At least one thing stayed the same in the growing chaos.

“Hey, actually on time,” Xander grinned up at her from the research table. His face instantly darkened when he saw that Spike was with her, however. “What’s bleach boy doing here?” he accused the vampire angrily.

A low growl sounded from Spike’s chest in response, and his eyes narrowed.

“He’s here to help,” Tara replied, surprised. Spike and Xander had never gotten along well, but she hadn’t seen this much open hostility between them in years.

“Yeah, well, we don’t need _your_ kind of help,” Xander informed Spike coldly, looking to Tara for support.

“W-We don’t know what—” she began.

Spike cut her off with a hand to her arm, silent understanding in his eyes at her confusion and a plea for her to let it go. She did so, and he practically slunk back to lean against the ladder in the far corner. As far away from the group as he could get. Xander shot him an angry look when he saw Spike touch her arm. He said nothing, but the daggers in his eyes spoke volumes.

Funny. Tara had sometimes, in her more fanciful moods, considered how the gang would take it if by some miracle something ever were to happen between her and Spike. She’d always concluded that Willow would be her biggest obstacle. Apparently, to Buffy, it was Xander.

She offered him a smile and accepted the chair he pulled out for her at the central table. Far from Spike and conveniently positioned so that she couldn’t see him. She could already tell that this would be a long night.

Perhaps even longer than she’d imagined. Everyone was looking at her, as if waiting for her to start.

“Oh, um, right,” she blushed horribly, looking down at her hands folded in her lap. The curtain of hair that fell around her face wouldn’t hide her this time, however.

“That spell you mentioned?” Spike piped in from the back of the room. Apparently he could tell just from her back’s posture that she was nervous. She once again remarked mentally upon that intelligence he kept so well hidden most of the time.

“We know it’s a spell?” Willow asked excitedly.

“I-I think so,” Tara agreed with a gulp. “I think there’s a spell that’s…well, it’s sort of made me switch bodies with another person…”

“You’re not Tara?” Anya squealed in sudden alarm. “It’s Faith again!” she accused. “She’s come back to kill us a-and _me_ for sleeping with Xander!”

“I’m not Faith,” Tara hastily reassured her. “And I’m not trying to kill anyone.”

“But you’re not Tara…?” Xander looked wary.

“No, I _am_ Tara, but Tara’s not who you think she is.” Blank stares all around. She tried again. “I think I’m from another universe,” she tried again, “or this universe has been altered somehow.”

Anya relaxed at that. “No one made any wishes lately, did they?” she demanded sternly, happy that the topic was something she understood.

Tara frowned at that for a second. Her thoughts the night before coming back to her. It was all coming true in a frightening way… “I-I’m not sure,” she admitted guiltily. “Can we get to that later?” There was a little squeak at the end of her question. If her thoughts last night somehow were responsible for this, then she was going to have to ‘fess up. But she wasn’t really used to being the one who made waves in the group. The only real time had been when her father and brother had come for her, and she’d cast that misguided spell to try to prevent people from seeing the demon within her. They’d forgiven her for that and probably would if she’d messed up again. But a little nervous voice in the back of her mind was asking what she would do if they didn’t.

Luckily, everyone seemed willing to go along with her suggestion, except Anya who kept suspicious eyes on her but said nothing.

“So, what does this all mean?” Xander looked hopelessly confused. “You say that you’re not Tara, but then you say that we’re just in an alternate universe, and…”

Anya patted his hand reassuringly.

“I…” Tara sighed. “I’ll try to explain.” Goddess, this was hard. With all these eyes on her for so long, expecting her to explain everything away when it still wasn’t entirely clear to her. “Okay, I _am_ Tara. But, in my universe, Tara isn’t the Slayer. Or, wasn’t the Slayer.” She corrected hastily. “Buffy is – _was_ – the Slayer, and I – Tara – am just a witch. I met you all through Willow – my Willow – when the two of us started dating in college.”

“Wait,” Xander gulped, eyes wide. “ _You_ and Willow dated?”

She nodded her head vigorously.

A far-off, dreamy look crossed his face. “I think I’m starting to like your universe…” he sighed wistfully until Anya whapped him upside the head.

“Go on.” Willow smiled a little awkwardly at her. Tara could understand. She imagined the Willow she knew would be equally unsettled if Buffy had started claiming one day that they’d been lovers.

“It seems like Buffy and I have switched places in this universe,” she continued. “Everything you guys think about Tara – about me – I remember happening to Buffy, and vice-versa.”

“So, wait…” Spike’s voice interrupted for the first time. “You’re dead then, pet?” There seemed to be a hint of agony in his voice as he said it.

“N-No,” she shook her head. “Buffy – my Buffy, Slayer Buffy – she died saving the world. And Tara – me, Willow’s girlfriend Tara – never died at all.”

Willow had been taking notes as Tara talked. “Okay,” she looked up proudly from the diagram before her, “I think I’ve got it.”

She pushed the chart before Xander’s confused eyes. A timeline was drawn down the center of the paper, dividing two halves that were titled ‘Our Universe’ and ‘Other Universe.’ Tara couldn’t help but grimace when she noticed that ‘Tara becomes Slayer’ fell under ‘Our Universe’ and the Buffy Slayer was considered another universe. To be expected, though, of course.

“W-When did Buffy die?” Willow asked nervously, obviously still feeling a bit of sadness from her own Buffy’s death.

“Two years ago,” Tara winced apologetically.

“About the same time Red’s Buffy went,” Spike commented from the shadows. Tara turned around in her chair to see him playing absentmindedly with the unlit cigarette between his fingers. “Guess you were right about her number bein’ up, luv.”

She spared him a small smile. She had a sudden, fervent wish to be on the fringe of the Scoobies once more, out of the spotlight and back where she belonged. With him. She could still taste him on her lips, and the memory of those passionate kisses they had shared in the back alley was nearly overwhelming, making it even more difficult to concentrate…

“So then…” Willow puzzled this latest fact out, “our universe has progressed where you lived and Buffy died, and that other universe would’ve gone on where you died and Buffy lived?” She looked at Tara hopefully for reassurance.

“Yeah,” Tara forced her attention back to the matter at hand. “Confusing, but close enough.”

“And we’re thinking someone did a spell to make the Taras switch universes?” Xander guessed.

“Right,” Tara agreed with relief. A part of her had been deeply afraid that they wouldn’t believe her. Or, even worse, wouldn’t listen to her. “I-I think…” She gulped. This was always a tough question to ask. “Willow, did you do any magic last night?”

Willow frowned. “Well, yeah, that spell to take down the Velatrix Demon’s shield so you could behead it…”

Tara groaned, getting many curious looks. “That’s not how the fight last night went in my universe at all,” she explained wearily. “Which means that if the Willow in my universe did something, this Willow probably doesn’t even know about it…”

Willow winced at that. “Other!Me is sorry?” she ventured.

Tara smiled at that. “I-I’m not even entirely sure…” she began.

“You mentioned a wish,” Anya finally spoke up. Never one to let go of a bone when she’d glommed onto it. _As Xander’s penis learned well_ , she thought perkily.

“Right.” Tara nodded. “The thing is… I’m – or, the other Tara,” she caved in to their terminology since it seemed less confusing for them, “is a witch. And just last night she was thinking about this very thing.”

“Switching up universes?” Willow inquired, a hint of excitement in her eyes at the thought of the powerful magics involved. Tara couldn’t help but wonder if this Willow was prone to the same dangers her Willow was.

“No, nothing like that,” she insisted. “There are…well, some difficulties and conflicts in that world. And I was thinking I wished I could help last night. A-And it sort of occurred to me that if I were in Buffy’s shoes, I could fix everything that was wrong…”

“You wished it out loud?” Anya pressed.

“No,” Tara insisted. “But I think it’s too much to be coincidence.”

Willow nodded at that. “I can try to trace any magics that have worked on us lately,” she suggested. “It might give us some clue as to what happened exactly.”

Tara nodded. “I’ll hel—” She froze in mid-syllable, however, as the horrifying realization hit her for the first time. She hadn’t tried to call upon any magic so far that day, not wanting to push her luck after that spell last night. But now as she reached for that calming, _connected_ spot in the back of her mind, she found that it was terribly, horribly empty. Cut off. Ripped away.

“What’s wrong?” Xander asked in alarm as she suddenly leapt up and back from the table as if burned.

“Tara?” Spike whispered anxiously, instantly beside her but keeping his distance and one wary eye on the Scoobies.

“M-My powers…” She looked around in frantic alarm. “They’re gone!”

“Goddess…” Willow breathed. “A-Are you sure? Do you want to try hitting the punching bag, or…?”

Confusion clouded Tara’s mind for a second, the sudden wasteland in the back of her mind overwhelming her. What on earth was Willow talking about?

“She thinks she’s a witch, not the Slayer,” Spike cut off Willow’s frantic monologue. “Your witchy powers gone now that you’re the Chosen One and all that rot?”

Tara nodded, taking several deep breaths and trying to focus. At least her meditative techniques were entirely learned and not tied in to her natural talents. “I-I don’t think I can do magic,” she whispered shakily. She’d never realized before how much comfort she took from the feeling the ebb and flow of the life force around her. Without it, she felt suddenly…naked. “I-I need to…”

Willow caught on to the reason for her distress as well. “Why don’t you go back into the training room to rest?” she suggested gently. “You want me to work on that spell?”

Tara managed to nod before she practically fled to the back room. A second’s pause, and Spike moved to go after her.

“She doesn’t want you bothering her,” Xander cut him off with a hand to his chest.

Spike’s eyes narrowed at the human. “Sod. Off.” He precisely punctuated each word with an angry tick of his jaw. “You don’t even know who this girl is.”

“She’s Tara,” Xander insisted. “She’s still my best friend… _other_ best friend,” he hastily amended for Willow’s benefit. Anya coughed. “ _Other_ other best friend…”

“You don’t get it, do you?” Spike said simply, pushing Xander aside. “She’s not the same Tara you buddied up to in high-school. She’s someone else, someone—”

“—You don’t know, either,” Xander countered in triumph.

“No, but I—”

“Love her?” Xander scoffed. “Please! No one fell for that trick when you started it, and no one’s buying it now.”

The momentary flash of hurt in Spike’s eyes vanished so quickly that no one present even noticed it. “I—” his voice began shakily.

“Spike?”

They all turned in surprise at Tara’s soft voice. She was peeking out of the doorway to the darkened training room.

“C-Can we talk?”

Flashing Xander a triumphant look, Spike pushed by him – ignoring quite a few curses thrown his way – and joined Tara in the back room. His eyes softened when he noticed her sitting on one end of the couch, looking nervous and scared and downright miserable. It broke his heart to see his strong Slayer like this… No, not his. Someone else, even though they inhabited the same much-loved form.

Hesitantly, he sat down next to her, preparing for her to push him away. Instead she started talking.

“I-I’m so sorry about all this,” she began softly, sounding almost on the verge of tears.

“Sorry?” he blinked in surprise. “For what?”

 _“‘Not marble, nor the gilded monuments / Of princes shall outlive this powerful rhyme…’”_ she answered instead.

“This Shakespeare obsession a normal thing with you?” he countered confusedly.

She bit back a wistful laugh. “It was sort of this…thing we do, back in my universe,” she answered. “We’d read off the first line and try to stump each other.”

He frowned. “You read Shakespeare?” he asked in surprise. “And…you know that _I_ read Shakespeare?”

She couldn’t help but giggle at that. “You don’t have to sound so scandalized.”

He shrugged, leaning back onto the couch beside her. “You can understand that this is all a bit hard to handle?”

“Trust me, I’m living it,” she agreed, sitting back as well so that their shoulders were just brushing.

“So why’re you apologizing to me, then?” he inquired pointedly.

“Finish the quote,” she insisted stubbornly.

He frowned, twitched slightly in his seat as if embarrassed, and then grumbled out semi-sullenly, _“‘But you shall shine more bright in these contents / Than unswept stone, besmeared with sluttish time.’”_

A pause. “And what does it mean?” she demanded.

He let out a bark of laughter at the absurdity of this situation. “You’re a real piece of work, luv, you know that? In any universe. What, are you an English teacher or something?”

“Training to be one,” she countered.

He froze at that. “You have got to be bloody kidding me…” A delighted little smile curved up the edges of his lips. “Me and an English teacher, huh? Knew I was goin’ soft…”

She bit her lower lip and worried it between her teeth for a minute. “We’re not…together,” she finally admitted, gesturing vaguely back and forth between them.

“Yeah, well, points for consistency and all that,” he sighed.

“It’s not… You’re not really interested in me, in my world,” she clarified. “You’re in love with Buffy, and she’s dead so…”

He shook his head ruefully. “Funny thing… Never even looked at Buffy that way. ‘S hard to imagine…”

“The way you think of her is the way my Spike thinks of me.” A tinge of sadness entered her voice at that.

It didn’t escape him. “Can’t imagine I’d be that blind,” he countered. Paused for a minute. He’d accused her of this so often, he was almost afraid to now. All the more so because if he finally got the answer he’d been seeking all these years, it would be meaningless. But, then, he always had been a fool for love… “Do you…love me?” he finally asked nervously.

She froze and turned to look at him pointedly. His face was less than a foot from hers, and she could make out his pale features even in the dim light. But his eyes – so often the key to all his thoughts – were in shadows.

She sighed. “Ask me again when everything is back to normal, and I’ll tell you,” she promised.

He let out a deep breath of air. “Right. Forget I asked…”

She bit her lip and reached over to place her hand over his. “Can I ask you a question?” she inquired apologetically.

“Shoot.” He placed a cigarette between his lips and flicked on his lighter.

Tara didn’t even blink. She’d gotten used to the smell of smoke over the past two years. “I-If Buffy were still alive and she maybe wanted a little comfort…would you mind?”

His brow furrowed as he took the first drag off his cigarette. “Can’t imagine why she’d want to—” he began.

“Would you mind?” she repeated more forcefully.

“Well, no…but—” He froze in mid-sentence when she responded by closing the last few inches between them and resting her head on his shoulder.

“I figure this isn’t taking advantage then,” she informed him with a little smile before shutting her eyes. Oh, she’d dreamed of this so often. Being curled up in his arms, feeling his strength surrounding her, his fingers lightly stroking her hair and putting her to sleep… It was all like a dream come true. Which might be why it felt so much like a nightmare gone wrong. “I-I just wanted to help,” she admitted softly. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen…”

“’m not complaining,” he countered, tightening his hold on her experimentally. She cuddled in closer in response. Her closeness had his body stirring in all sorts of ways, but he kept his baser impulses in check for the moment.

 _“‘So till the judgment that your self arise, / You live in this, and dwell in lovers’ eyes’,”_ she quoted. “That’s the final couplet.”

“I know,” he agreed carefully.

“I think it’s your favorite,” she commented absentmindedly. “You’ve tried it on me at least a dozen times. And you know why I think you like it?”

“Why?” he asked curiously.

“Because it means that even though Buffy’s dead – the real Buffy, not the one you remember now – she still lives on in your words and your actions,” she decided. “I think that’s why you love it so much. Because your memories keep her alive. And, in this world, she’s dead. Really and truly dead. Because not even you remember how much you love her…” Tears stung the corners of her eyes.

His expression instantly softened, and he brushed the salty droplets away. “There, luv. Don’t mind.”

“Yes, you do,” she insisted. “You just don’t know. Imagine, right now, if suddenly you’d forgotten all about me and it was like I never existed. Wouldn’t that bother you?”

He gulped, slightly choked up. Of course, he would never cry. Not her Spike or any other in any universe.

“I don’t think I can handle much more of this,” she admitted nervously. “I have no clue what I’m doing, or how to make anything right again, or-or—”

“Hush,” he soothed. “You’ll figure it out. ‘S what you do, right?”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not. I more sit on the sidelines and do nothing while people like Buffy figure it out. I don’t know how to order people around, or how to slay things, and now I can’t even do magic anymore, and…” She trailed off helplessly.

He was silent for a moment, occasionally bringing the cigarette up to his lips, before he finally spoke. “You say you don’t know what you’re doin’, and I guess you’d know better seein’ as you and me only met today, really…”

She let his words wash over her, just wanting to escape for the moment.

“But,” he countered, “from what ‘ve seen, you’re just as good at settin’ things right as my Slayer. The way you got Red focused and made sure everyone was followin’ what was going on. And you even handled that annoying git Harris,” he added with a cheeky grin.

She couldn’t help but smile at that as well.

“So, I’m thinking maybe you’re a better leader than you think you are, luv,” he concluded. “Because I haven’t seen anything tonight that would make me love you any less…”

She looked up at him fondly and reached out to cup his cheek with one hand. “You know, you’re really…sweet sometimes…”

His eyes widened in horror. “Bloody well am not!” he exclaimed in outrage. “’m the Biggest Bad you’ll ever meet and—”

“Spike?” Her voice was soft, muffled from where her face was once more buried in the leather of his duster. Her slightest whisper was enough to stop his most violent tirade, however.

“Yeah, luv?”

“Can I just…rest here for a moment?”

He relaxed against her. “Yeah,” he agreed, but the day’s events had already overwhelmed her, and she drifted off into a contented, dreamless sleep…


	4. A Mile In Your Shoes

“Tara, Will’s got—” Xander’s statement came to an abrupt halt when he saw Tara and Spike curled up together on the couch.

Spike, startled by the sudden words in the quiet and the burst of light from the open door, quickly scrambled up, reluctantly abandoning his Slayer’s warm body and the soft feel of her hair beneath her fingertips. “Don’t any of you lot know how to knock?” he exclaimed in frustration.

Xander scowled. “Good thing we don’t,” he shot back. “Thought you’d take advantage of the situation while this spell has Tara all confused?” he accused.

Spike’s eyes flashed gold in the darkness in response, and a low growl rumbled through his chest. “You ‘ave no clue what you’re talkin’ about, Harris, so maybe ‘s time you just shut your mouth and _grew up_ already!”

“You think I’m just gonna sit by while you corrupt my best friend right into you arms?” Xander puffed himself up, trying to take advantage of the few extra inches he had on the vampire.

“Spineless li’l interferin’—”

“Stop it!” Tara’s frustrated and somewhat alarmed voice cut him off, and she quickly stepped between the two of them. “Just…stop it!” She felt like she was cracking apart, torn from peace one instant and thrown back into war. It was so tiring…

They both moved in to comfort her, but Xander’s glare caused Spike to hesitate for a moment, and it was Xander’s arm that slipped around her shoulders. “C’mon,” he soothed softly, “Will found a spell that’ll tell us what’s going on, and then we can all get back to normal.” He threw a disgusted look in Spike’s direction, the implication only too clear that ‘normal’ would consist of Tara throwing Spike back on the street where he belonged.

She allowed him to guide her out the door with his comforting words, and Spike felt his heart breaking all over again. But then she hesitated and looked back at him, extending one hand in invitation. And, as their fingers twined together to Xander’s obvious displeasure, he didn’t think he’d ever been happier.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with you two,” she commented, calming as her mind focused upon the matter at hand once more. “You did make him an usher at your wedding, after all…”

“Wedding?” Xander blinked in disbelief at this.

“You mean in some universe he didn’t turn spineless coward and call the whole thing off?” Anya’s voice interjected pointedly.

“Ahn…” he quickly turned his attention back to his girlfriend.

“I thought we were going to talk about our problems,” she countered huffily, “and I still want to—”

“Not now,” he hissed, giving Spike a dirty look for his smirk.

“Whenever you get it sorted out,” Spike retorted cheekily, “make sure to give me a few weeks’ notice. Have a busy ushering schedule, you know.”

“Yeah right, like I’m inviting you,” Xander retorted. “Last I recall, the old saying isn’t, ‘Something old, something _evil_.’”

Spike growled and stalked over to him in response, but Tara’s hand quickly caught the center of his chest, pushing him back. “We don’t have time for this,” she pleaded wearily, “and I _really_ don’t have the energy…” That calmed Spike almost instantly.

Willow, glancing nervously at the testosterone war around her, finally ventured to cough.

“Xander said you found something?” Tara turned to her hopefully.

Willow bit her lip. “Well, actually it’s more of a spell to help up find out what’s happening than to fix things, but once we know what’s going on, then I’m hoping—”

“Point?” Spike interjected, obviously still riled up from his argument with Xander.

“I can trace the origin of whatever’s happened,” Willow snapped to, embarrassed. “It’ll just take a few seconds…”

“And wouldn’t _that_ be a miracle?” Spike grumbled under his breath.

Xander gasped in protest, but Tara cut him off before fixing Spike with a mildly annoyed look of her own. His expression instantly turned sheepish, and he slunk back into the shadows. Tara almost felt sorry for him then, but with Willow casting the spell right now, she couldn’t afford to go over and assure him that it was all right.

“Under the light of Mercury, reveal to us your key,” Willow chanted in a trance-like state, “guide us to your source, the first ripple of the sea…”

As the final words were uttered, a flash of orange light shimmered to life in the center of the room. It swirled in an excited vortex for a moment before half broke off to surround Tara while the other half dropped to the map Willow had splayed before her, settling instantly in a pinpoint of light over the Maclay residence.

“So, this means what?” Xander wondered.

Willow gestured him to be silent, eyes tightly closed as if she was receiving some sort of internal message that none of the others could hear. After a moment, she dispersed the spell and came out of her trance.

“Well?” Tara asked anxiously, and not a little jealously at the magic Willow still had in this world.

“It feels,” Willow began hesitantly, “like Tara made a wish. Maybe back at your apartment?”

Tara sighed and nodded and suddenly had the overwhelming urge to be as inconspicuous as possible. Unfortunately, she was the direct center of the room with all eyes upon her. It made her begin to feel guilty and very, very self-conscious. “I-I-Is there any w-way to reverse it?” she managed to stutter out, trying to hide her blush under the curtain of her hair.

Willow bit her lip nervously. “Well…” she began hesitantly, “the only real way to reverse something like this is to find whoever cast the spell in the first place and get them to undo it.”

“B-But I _really_ didn’t ask anyone,” Tara’s voice had taken on a pleading quality now. “I-I don’t even know…” She trailed off before sinking into her chair, the implications that this change could be permanent dancing through her head. Goddess, right now she wanted nothing more than her old life, complete with oblivious-Spike and domineering-Willow… Although Spike’s hand coming to rest discreetly in the small of her back wasn’t unpleasant in the slightest. In fact, it felt more wonderful than even she would have imagined…

Willow frowned. “Well, let’s look at this logically,” she concluded. “From what I got, the spell seems to have originated from your room back home…” A note of hesitation entered her voice. “I saw a…magical circle there…?”

Tara’s eyes snapped open again at that. “That’s right…” she began slowly and thoughtfully. “My magic is gone, but the circle was still there this morning… Why would that be unless…whatever did this used the circle as an entrance and exit point… Which makes sense because I used it for my nightly meditation. I-It could’ve become a doorway of sorts. And if something in the metaphysical realm picked up on my unspoken wishes, it could’ve entered our world through the circle, a-and it wouldn’t have been able to destroy the circle because it needed the door on its way out…” Her voice gained confidence and purpose again throughout this speech, and by the end of it new hope shone in her eyes.

“Could you go back and try to find whatever granted your wish?” Willow suggested.

Tara felt her heart fall in her chest at that. “I can’t do magic anymore…” she reminded the redhead.

“Maybe just this?” Willow pressed. “It’s not much, and…”

“You really have no way of knowing where I went when I meditated, so you can’t do it for me,” Tara concluded with a sigh. “I-I can try, I guess…”

“Great. Sounds like fun. Can we get outta here now?” Spike’s increasingly impatient voice cut in. This lot always drove him nuts with their endless talking and no action. And this time it was even worse because he wasn’t quite convinced he _wanted_ this spell to be undone.

Tara smiled at him in unspoken understanding and got up. “It’s really late, and Dawnie’s home alone,” she agreed, wincing in silent apology at that last part. _She’d_ never left Dawn alone this late to fend for herself, but she wouldn’t be surprised to learn that Slayer-Tara had. “I’ll try my best.”

Spike moved to go with her, and naturally another debate was sparked.

“I didn’t hear Tara say anything about the Ungrateful Dead there,” Xander protested immediately.

A sigh of exasperation escaped her lips. “What’s wrong with you two?” she exclaimed in exasperation as Spike threw Xander a confident smirk. “Can’t you go for one minute without antagonizing each other?”

Both gave her sheepish looks at that.

“Now, I need Spike to come with me because everyone in town thinks I’m the Slayer and I don’t know how to fight,” she reminded Xander.

“You actually trust him not to go out and tell all his demon buddies it’s open season on helpless Slayers?” Xander demanded incredulously.

Tara took a deep breath to calm herself. “Yes, I do,” she said simply. “And, deep down inside, you know it’s the truth, too.” She managed polite and friendly smiles for Willow and Anya. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

Anya just couldn’t resist one last clarification. “And tomorrow Xander will actually come to his senses and commit?” she demanded. “Because I’ve always imagined that orgasms would be much more satisfying when—”

“Ahn!” Xander cut her off, a bit annoyed that she was sharing their relationship problems with the group at large.

Willow gave Tara a long-suffering look, and Tara returned it in full.

“I-If this doesn’t work…” Tara shrugged off nervously. Then, they could be stuck, she well realized.

“It’ll work,” Willow encouraged her.

Tara smiled at that. One thing she would miss was this friendlier and more laid-back Willow. “G’night,” she waved before following Spike’s swirling duster out the door.

The doorbell tinkled as the door shut behind them, and Tara offered Spike a cautious look. He had his hands buried deep in his duster pockets and was studying the ground before him intently as he walked at her side.

She smiled softly. She hadn’t seen much of this quieter, shier aspect of Spike since the world had been turned upside-down this morning, but she enjoyed these comfortable silences that settled between them. They allowed her to enjoy her own thoughts, while not feeling alone in the slightest.

It wasn’t until they were less than ten blocks from her home that Spike finally spoke up. “I love you.”

The words were so simple, but they sent such mixed emotions through Tara. The first was excitement because they were words she had longed to hear for so long; the second was disappointment because they weren’t directed at her, not really.

“No, you don’t,” she sighed wearily.

“Yes, I do,” he retorted just as confidently. “And I get that you’re not the same person ‘ve been pursuing all these years, but today has been…” He looked down shyly, still refusing to meet her eyes. “The best day of my life,” he mumbled.

She paused at that, catching his sleeve so that he was forced to turn and face her. “Spike…” she began apologetically.

“No one’s ever stood up for me before,” he cut her off, determined to have his say, “trusted me, just let me get close without judgin’…” He trailed off abruptly. “Right. Act like a complete nancy-boy,” he chided himself, jaw ticking at his ineptness angrily, “perfect way to any woman’s heart.”

She couldn’t help but giggle at that, and one hand instinctively reached up to cup the smooth, hard line of his jaw. “I’m not the one you have to woo,” she reminded him.

“See, this is why I think ‘m falling in love with _you_ ,” he commented, taking a step closer.

Tara gulped and ducked her head. “Please don’t,” she whispered apologetically. “Afterwards, you won’t want…”

He humphed. “How do you bloody well know what I’ll want?” he grumbled, pulling away and taking up a fast pace towards her home.

She sighed and chased after him. “I’m sorry,” she insisted.

“Right. Heard that one often enough.”

A little exasperated exclamation escaped her lips. “You’re not a simple man to deal with in any universe, are you?” she demanded affectionately.

He couldn’t help but flash her a rakish grin at that. “You don’t seem overly simple yourself, luv,” he returned the compliment. “Drive me just as mad, but in a nicer way.”

She smiled, coming to a halt outside the door to her apartment building. “I do?” she pressed.

He nodded, fixing her with hungry eyes. “All sweet and coy, makin’ me want you so much…”

“I’m not trying to be coy,” she apologized, “really.”

“Oh, but that’s what makes it so appealin’, luv. The act wouldn’t do much for me, but I can tell ‘s real on you, and it…” He trailed off and leaned in close. “Makes me feel like ‘ve found a kindred spirit of a different sort than my Slayer,” he finished in a husky voice.

She didn’t intend it and she didn’t think he did either, but before either of them knew what was happening, their lips had met in a passionate kiss, and their hands were each eagerly exploring the other’s body, pulling them closer together.

This kiss was softer, more innocent, as if he were unsure of how she really liked to be kissed. Her tongue tangled with his, guiding him before taking the lead herself, reveling in the power she had to make him moan against her. She’d never thought of herself as the dominant type, but she was rather enjoying determining the pace and intensity of their kiss, drawing him in so deep she could almost feel him brush her soul before pulling back for desperate breaths.

She felt herself surrounded by his scent, his touch, the soft vibrations sounding from his chest. Consumed and freed all at once, and just from a series of lazy kisses. It felt as though this moment were stretching on into infinity until, like being woken from a dream, Tara heard someone calling her name…

* * *

“Are we just going to let him get away with this?” Xander demanded the instant the door shut behind Tara and Spike.

“Xander, calm down,” Willow frowned. “It’s not like he’ll—”

“Hurt her?” Xander cut in. “’Cause, yeah, he hasn’t just been waiting for his opportunity to add Tara’s head to his trophy chest all these years.”

“Chip?” Willow suggested.

“That doesn’t mean he can’t hurt her in other ways,” Xander insisted stubbornly. “In case you haven’t noticed, this Tara seems to be falling for his ‘good boy vamp’ routine.”

And, at this point, Anya couldn’t take it anymore. “Will you stop being so paranoid already?” she exclaimed in exasperation.

Xander looked at her, surprised to see her face flushed, her eyes shooting daggers, and her hands clutched into angry fists.

“I am so sick,” Anya went on, infuriated, “about hearing about your obsession with Tara and Spike.”

“I don’t—” he began to protest.

“You spend all your time complaining about how he’s evil and not worthy of her, taking potshots just because he’s a demon while I’m _right here_!” she cut him off.

“Ahn,” Xander tried to console her, “he _is_ a demon. You’re not anymore. And you’re certainly not still trying to kill us all.”

Anya wasn’t going to be placated so easily, however. Arms crossed firmly over her chest, she scowled at him. “This isn’t about whether or not Spike’s a demon,” she insisted in a huff.

“But you just said—” he began in exasperation.

“This,” she said pointedly, “is about you treating Tara like you’re a jealous ex that wants to get back together with her. Scaring off her boyfriends, and—”

“Spike is _not_ Tara’s boyfriend!” Xander exclaimed, enraged.

She fixed him with an icy stare. “See what I mean?” she insisted. “You care more about Tara than you do about me.”

“Oh Ahn, that’s not true. Tara’s one of my best friends,” Xander insisted. “I’m just trying to protect her.”

“Best friends don’t act like Arterian Slime Devils around their best friend’s boyfriends,” Anya recited matter-of-factly.

Xander blinked. “Arterian Slime Devils?” he asked confusedly.

“I think it’s like Neanderthals,” Willow whispered in her two cents.

An exasperated sigh escaped Xander’s lips. “This is ridiculous, Ahn!” he insisted. “I do not—!” He turned to Willow to support. “Wills, tell her I don’t…” He trailed off when he noticed Willow had her Resolve Face on.

“I’m sorry,” she offered apologetically. “B-But you do insult Spike an awful lot…”

“Because he’s an evil vampire that nearly killed us countless times!” Xander exclaimed angrily. He looked back and forth at the two most important women in his life, but both looked increasingly skeptical. “Fine,” he said, eyes narrowed, “I’ll just take care of this myself.” He stalked to the door, grabbing his coat.

Willow and Anya exchanged an anxious look. “What are you doing?” Anya demanded.

“ _I’m_ going to go protect Tara from that _thing_ , since you two seem to have forgotten that we’re her friends,” Xander insisted.

“Xander, you can’t—” Willow protested, but he’d already slammed the door behind him.

Anya deflated visibly once he was gone. “He’s being irrational,” she insisted firmly. “Please tell me I’m not being irrational about his being irrational.”

Willow grimaced. “I agree with you. Which either means that hell’s frozen over, or we’re right.”

Anya managed a slightly amused smile at that. “Would should go after him before he does something he’ll regret later.”

Willow nodded. “And fast,” she agreed, reaching for her jacket.

* * *

Xander had spent the entire walk to Tara’s apartment fuming about Willow and Anya’s refusal to help him and panicking about the fact that Spike and Tara were alone together, and god only knew how the vampire was trying to take advantage of the situation. Xander had seen the way Spike had been looking at Tara all throughout the Scooby meeting. Like she was suddenly something attainable. And, given the way Tara had been acting, Xander no longer had his blind faith that she would reject that vampiric loser the way he deserved to be rejected.

And, when he caught up with them right outside Tara’s building, he knew only too well that he’d been correct in every assessment. He watched in horror as their lips met, feeling an overwhelming sense of rage, disgust, and disappointment build in his gut as he approached.

However, before he could make his presence known, Dawn’s voice cut in from the door of the building.

“Tara, is that you? I hope you ate dinner, since I pretty much ate everything left in the fridge while I practically _starved_ waiting for you to get back,” her critical words cut through the night air.

Tara and Spike broke apart in surprise to look at her. Just as Dawn realized what she’d just interrupted, and her jaw dropped in amazement. An awkward moment settled between the three of them.

“Er…’lo, Bit,” Spike finally offered uncomfortably.

She nodded numbly at him before slowly a smile crept up to the edges of her lips. “Uh…hi.” A little giggle. “So, I guess you were late because…” Several short laughs, and she brought her fist up to cover her mouth.

“Oi!” Spike complained. “What’s so funny?”

Tara blushed horribly.

“Not funny,” Dawn insisted, “just…aww! So cute!” She began giggling again.

“Not ‘cute’!” Spike exclaimed in outrage.

At that point, Tara couldn’t help from laughing at the absurdity of the situation as well. Spike shot her a betrayed look, but she just shook her head. “C’mon, you’ve got to admit it’s kind of funny.”

His lips quirked, but he refused to laugh. Which, of course, just amused Dawn all the more.

“So,” she demanded, “how long have you two been…y’know?” She waved her hands about in a series of complicated gestures.

Spike’s eyebrow rose as he watched Dawn’s fingertips make little curlicues in the air. He wondered if someone needed to explain to her that the acts she was referring to didn’t involve anything so contorted. Make sure his Bit knew what to expect and all that…

“We’re not exactly…” Tara began apologetically.

“Oh?” Dawn looked at her pointedly, one hand firmly on her hip.

“There’s an alternate universe, and she’s not Tara. Or ‘m not Spike.” Spike frowned. “Speakin’ of which…which one of us is normal, pet?”

Tara grimaced. “I think we’re both off,” she replied.

“W-Wait a minute,” Dawn was confused now. “Alternate universe?”

Tara sighed. “Let’s go inside, and I’ll explain it all to—”

“Look out!” Xander’s voice suddenly screamed through the darkness.

Spike’s head snapped in Xander’s direction before quickly turning into the direction of the boy’s alarm. His eyes widened when he saw the figure behind them, a female figure crackling with blue witchfire. “Oops…” The word slipped past his lips.

“Slayer,” the apparition hissed, “you have defeated my servants and will pay for ruining the Veracine Prophecies!”

Tara blinked. “Huh?”

“Er…” Spike began apologetically, “so the reason I stopped by tonight was to let you know that I got word on who’s been summonin’ all those Velatrices lately…” He gestured sheepishly in the direction of the powerful mage.

“And you didn’t think it’d be a good idea to mention this before now?” Xander exclaimed in disbelief.

“Got sidetracked!” Spike insisted defensively.

“Cool,” Dawn watched the blue energy crackle around the latest Big Bad like bolts of lightning, “so you’re gonna, like, fight her now, right?”

“Dawn,” three voices spoke in perfect unison, “go inside.”

Dawn huffed, grumbled something about how she was old enough to help too, and slammed the door closed behind her in a huff.

The mage, meanwhile, seemed thoroughly perplexed that her threats were receiving so little attention. “You shall pay for defying Lilani!” she screeched.

Tara gulped.

Xander winced sympathetically. “Look,” he began. “Lilani, is it? See, this really isn’t a good time for us.” A nervous chuckle. “I mean, the fabric of the universe itself kinda got messed with, and we’re trying to clean up the mess, and… Would another time be better for you?”

Lilani blinked in disbelief at his audacity. “You dare to mock me, boy?” she exclaimed, eyes flaring with unholy light.

“’d recommend makin’ like the Bit and runnin’,” Spike hissed to Xander.

For once, Xander didn’t protest, backing away from the center of the fight.

Spike’s instincts were to flee as well, but it was clear Lilani’s primary target was Tara, and he wasn’t about to leave her defenseless to fight off a Satanic Mage. “Harris did have a point, you know,” he provided for the mage’s benefit.

His response was a fiery lightning-bolt directed right at the two of them. They both dove just in time, and Spike rolled as he fell, ending up behind the bus bench on the corner of the street. A quick scramble and Tara joined him in the relative safety of their latest cover.

“You ‘got sidetracked’?” she repeated in disbelief, cringing in instinctive fear as another bolt crashed right into the bench. The wood and metal singed and creaked, but miraculously held.

 _“Thus can my love excuse the slow offence’?”_ he offered apologetically.

She reminded herself that she didn’t have time to be charmed by his response, to feel her pulse racing at his husky voice as he recited some of the most beautiful words in the English language. After all, Lilani was probably the biggest death-threat she’d ever faced.

“Do you think you can handle her alone?” Tara suggested hopefully.

Spike grimaced. “See, here’s the problem, kitten.” He tapped his forehead pointedly. “She’s human.”

Tara’s eyes widened in alarm at that, just as another fiery blast struck the bench before them, causing them to flee to a nearby grove. Their foe followed resolutely after.

“This is not good,” she whimpered in a weak voice.

“Hafta agree with you there,” Spike added grimly as they continued to run…


	5. To Thine Own Self Be True

“Okay,” Tara said breathlessly, ducking behind the McMahon monument, “tell me you have a plan.”

“Does runnin’ around and hopin’ she tires out count as a plan?” Spike inquired, daring to peer around the corner.

The stone exploded in a pyrotechnic display of blue and white in response. Ducking flying debris, the two of them managed to escape behind a row of tombstones and came out in the middle of a small copse of trees.

“At least there’s better cover in the graveyard,” Tara commented ruefully.

Spike nodded, all his senses hyper-alert and focused upon their attacker. Lilani seemed to have lost them for the moment. “Harris’ll have the common sense to call for some backup,” he rationalized.

“And then we’ll what?” Tara demanded, frustrated. “Warn them all to run for it, so they don’t get killed, too?”

Spike frowned in agreement with that. “Said you killed a Velatrix in your ‘verse,” he pointed out. “This bint seems to be of the same mold roughly. So how’d you do it?”

Tara groaned. “Willow’s one of the most powerful witches in the world, I have magic, and someone else is the Slayer,” she rattled off.

The trees to their right disintegrated in a burst of blue flames at that, leaving Lilani in their wake. Spike and Tara had already fled the scene, however, and were hidden safely behind the funerary chapel.

“Don’t s’pose we can trade?” Spike joked.

Tara grimaced. “I really wish,” she agreed wearily.

He peeked around the corner more cautiously this time. “She’s lost us,” he informed Tara, watching the infuriated mage blow up a row of tombstones unnecessarily in her search for them.

“Okay,” Tara breathed, “this would be the time to come up with a plan, then…”

“What you got in mind?” he inquired.

Tara let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t know! I don’t know how to handle _any_ of this! You know those survival-choice games? Well, I always die on the first level.”

A sympathetic hand came to rest on her shoulder, pulling her in against his chest. She allowed the scent of old leather to wash over her, soothing her frayed nerves.

“Shh, kitten,” he comforted her softly. “We’ll get out of this. I just need you to hold together for a bit longer, right?”

She managed to nod shakily against him, calmed by his words. “What do you have in mind?”

“Well now, isn’t this just…neat?” a delighted little grin curved the corners of his lips. “Not every day a vamp gets to tell the Slayer how to defeat a Big Bad…”

She gave him an impatient look, and he quickly got back on track.

“Right. ‘m thinking we should split up. You distract her, and ‘ll sneak around from behind, and…”

“And what?” Tara demanded skeptically. “Your chip’s not going to let you—”

“Let me worry about the chip, luv,” he quieted her protests with a fingertip to her lips. He gulped, and for a second Tara thought she saw something deep in his eyes, something that frightened her horribly, although she couldn’t say why.

He leaned in to brush his lips against hers, and she clung to his neck, desperately hoping that this moment would never end. There was a feeling of finality to this kiss, like neither were sure they’d live to experience another.

“I love you, Spike.” The words slipped from Tara’s lips of their own volition when they broke apart.

A lopsided smile. “Love you, too,” he whispered softly, stroking her jaw-line with the backs of his knuckles before he pulled away and vanished into the dark of the night, intense blue eyes catching hers for one last instant before he disappeared.

Tara felt her hands shaking but forced them into fists. Several deep, calming breaths, and she stepped out from behind the chapel and into Lilani’s line of sight. “Looking for me?” she caught the mage’s attention, praying to every goddess she could think of that Spike knew what he was doing…

* * *

“What’s going on?” Dawn’s panicked voice was the first thing that greeted Xander as he shut the door to the Maclay apartment behind him.

“Big Bad’s after Tara and Spike,” he said simply. “I need to call Wills and…” He trailed off when he noticed that Dawn was already on the phone.

“There’s no answer,” she shook her head ruefully. She held out the receiver for him, and he could just make out the tail end of the answering machine message, Anya’s perky voice saying “…please, leave a number where I can contact you to take your money.” With a sigh, Dawn slammed down the receiver.

Xander took a deep breath, not liking the way this was going. “Okay,” he began nervously, going over to the closet and digging through piles of coats and boxes of shoes before he came out with a crossbow and series of bolts, “here’s what we’re going to do. I’m going to try to help Tara. You stay here and keep trying to get a hold of Willow.”

The sour look on Dawn’s face made it all too clear what she thought of that plan, but she kept her anger at being treated like a little kid in. After all, the middle of battle really wasn’t the time to press her point. She watched Xander race back out of the apartment and picked up the cordless phone, heading over to Tara’s room so that she could see what was going on in the cemetery across the street while she made her calls.

She parted the curtains and could see flashes of blue light in the darkness of the grave plot. Sighing at having once more been left behind, she hit the speed dial for Willow’s dorm, hoping to catch the witch there. After eight rings, she gave up and tried the Magic Box again. Still Anya’s damn message.

She bemoaned the fact that she had the most boring life of all the Scoobies – well, not really Scoobies, since she wasn’t one of the gang, now was she?

And, caught up in her annoyance, frustration, and worry about her sister and Spike, she didn’t even notice the shimmering green sparkles slowly emerge from the circle on the floor of Tara’s room. Didn’t see them coalesce into a shinning orb of green and white light. And, when the spirit suddenly zoomed through the wall in a shower of colors, she just mistook it for one of the blasts from the cemetery.

Yup, nothing exciting _ever_ happened around Dawn…

* * *

“—And it’s not like I haven’t tried to point this out to him before,” Anya was still ranting, just as she had been the entire walk from the Magic Box. “But he’s in complete denial about it. He thinks it’s normal for a ‘friend’ to try to domineer another friend’s life, and… Well, he doesn’t treat _you_ like some perfect little goddess to be worshipped from afar, now does he?”

Willow felt the beginnings of a headache coming on. Not that fighting with Anya didn’t do the same thing. She just guessed the former Vengeance Demon drove her batty, whether they were friends or enemies at the moment. “No,” she answered with a tight-lipped smile.

“Because he treats you like a _real_ friend,” Anya concluded. “I honestly believe—”

BOOM!

Willow and Anya both dove for the ground at the sound of the explosion from Santa Monica Cemetery. Looking up in amazement at the wild pyrotechnic display, they exchanged a look and grimaced.

“Think we’ve found Tara?” Willow joked wryly.

Anya nodded numbly. “Do we _have_ to go help her?” she dreaded to ask.

Willow fixed her with her Resolve Face. “Absolutely,” she insisted, getting up and heading for the cemetery.

More reluctantly, Anya got up and followed after her. After all, it was either help and be left alone as the perfect vamp bait. Or so she tried to convince herself. Because it really wasn’t in her best capitalistic interests to develop any kind of unwanted heroism.

She and Willow arrived upon the scene just in time to see Tara running like mad through the cemetery, the pale mage following close behind and hovering eerily several feet off the ground.

“She so stole that look from The Gentlemen,” Anya insisted in a bit of a huff.

Willow’s brow had furrowed into a frown, however, as she tried to figure out what to do. She couldn’t see Spike or Xander anywhere, and she didn’t think she could get Tara’s attention without exposing herself and Anya to danger.

“You’re going to do something, right?” Anya demanded pointedly. “Because, if you’re not, we could’ve just stayed far away where it’s safe and—”

“Shh!” Willow cut her off, annoyed. “I’m trying to think of a spell.”

Anya gave her a long-suffering eye-roll but kept her silence, arms crossed over her chest in an offended manner.

Willow took several deep breaths. “Okay. I think I might be able to cast a spell that would make her magic fizzle for a little while, give Tara a chance to go in for the kill.”

“You’re telling me this, why?” Anya retorted. “Just do it! Like that brilliant marketing campaign…”

Willow nodded and shut her eyes, trying to center herself and summon up the magic she’d need…

What neither woman was aware of, however, was that Spike was watching the entire fight from the shadows. Now, Tara had had a valid point about him not being able to do much to Lilani without getting zapped. However, he had high hopes that he’d be able to get one good blow in – hopefully enough to kill – before the pain overwhelmed him.

It certainly wasn’t the _most_ suicidal plan he’d ever come up with. Although the sentiment behind it was a bit more. He wasn’t at all sure that he wanted to return to a word where he and Tara wouldn’t be together, and he knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that this Scooby lot would eventually find a way to fix things. It wouldn’t be bad, going out in a shower of glory and violence, happy for the first time since Dru had left him…

His final prowl before the kill was interrupted abruptly, however, when Xander suddenly emerged from the brush, making about as much noise as a herd of elephants. He started when he saw Spike, and for one moment he was sorely tempted to fire the trigger on his crossbow and remove the peroxided pest from his life permanently. However, killing allies in the middle of battle wasn’t a particularly good idea.

“Can you try makin’ a bit more noise, Harris?” Spike asked snidely, pushing the point of the crossbow aside when he was close enough.

“At least I’m trying to help and not sneaking around in the shadows like a coward,” Xander snapped back, waving the crossbow around in violent gestures.

Spike’s eyes flashed an angry gold, and he snatched the weapon from Xander before he accidentally killed someone. Someone that they weren’t trying to kill, that is… “’m _trying_ to sneak up on the Bioelectric Woman there,” he corrected, “except _someone_ just blew my cover.”

Xander snorted. “And you’re going to do that?” he countered. “Mock her to death?”

“I’ll have you know—”

Whatever it was that Spike wanted Xander to know was lost forever, however, because at that moment the ruckus they were creating finally caught Lilani’s attention.

“Well, if it isn’t the Slayer’s personal cheerleading squad,” she commented coldly, noticing that Tara had once more escaped her reach. There was more than one way to draw out a Slayer, however. Wicked delight filled her eyes as lightning flashed at her fingertips.

“No!” Tara screamed, halting abruptly in her tracks and running towards Lilani, rather than away. But she was already too late…

Spike and Xander gulped and flinched as the energy was released from her fingertips with a resounding ‘boom!’…

And Willow screeched out at the top of her lungs the final words from her incantation…

“How—?” Lilani sputtered in outraged disbelief when her blast fizzled to nothing just feet from the boy and the vampire.

Spike breathed an unnecessary sigh of relief when he saw that they were still intact and poked Xander pointedly in the shoulder where the brunette still had his eyes squeezed shut tight and his hands held up over in his head in a completely useless protective gesture.

A dark eye cautiously creaked open, realized they were still intact, and Xander’s entire body slumped in relief.

Tara froze to an abrupt halt right behind Lilani, her own heart daring to beat again when she saw Spike safe and sound.

Curiously, another observer took in the scene as well. The green-and-white light settled into one of the nearby treetops, observing the universe it had created – and the earth-child’s new place within it – with an aware and open consciousness. Such a strange world, really, but the kindred love it had felt in the earth-child couldn’t be denied. It didn’t like the way the thunder-mage seemed to be threatening those the earth-child cared about, however…

Lilani was too caught up in her own problems to notice the increasing number of watchers, however. She frowned at her fingertips. Static sparks sizzled from them but were instantly muffled, rendering her most powerful magic completely ineffective. Oh, this had to be witchcraft, indeed.

She reached out with her mind, found the witch chanting in the bushes to the right, and an instant anger filled her. Silly little girl thought that her repression spells would defeat a dark mage? She had another thing coming…

Thoughts spiraling inward, she focused all her energy upon the redheaded witch, driving a flood of anger and violence into the little witch’s mind.

Willow cried out in response, clutching her head in pain, and her damping spell broke. Anya caught her before she could fall and looked up warily at Lilani, but the mage had other targets in mind.

“This game ends now, Slayer,” she hissed, energy crackling with deadly intensity from her fingertips.

And, at that moment, Tara froze like a deer in headlights, unable to escape this attack even if she used all of her recently-acquired Slayer speed. Her eyes widened for an instant, seeing her life flash before her eyes…

And then, suddenly, Lilani jerked forward with a scream of pain, clutching at her chest as a thin bolt pierced it from behind. She stared down in disbelief down at the pointed tip that had driven itself all the way through to the front of her chest, and a thick red stain spread across the pale white of her robe.

An even more agonized cry sounded from behind her, however. The scream of anguish was enough to free Tara from her paralysis, and she ran right by Lilani, catching her would-be lover before he even hit the ground.

“Spike!” she cried in alarm, holding the thrashing vampire tight in her arms.

His face was contorted in such pain that he looked inhuman to her in that moment. Hands clutched so hard in white hair they drew blood, but he still didn’t stop screaming.

“Spike,” she repeated again, desperate now. Oh goddess, the chip didn’t seem to be stopping…

A white-faced Xander knelt beside them where they’d slumped to the ground. “H-He just…shot her,” he gulped, gesturing meekly to the crossbow where it had fallen on the ground. “I-I…” A lump formed in his throat, and he seemed unable to say anything further.

Spike’s cries of pain faded as his lost consciousness, his head falling to land right in Tara’s lap. It was clear the shocks to his brain were continuing, however, by the way his body involuntarily twitched in spasms of pain.

“Oh goddess…” Tara gasped in helpless horror, unable to do anything to help the man she loved. Tender fingers caressed his brow, but her magical senses were gone, and she couldn’t even begin to feel the source of his pain to try to alleviate it. “No…”

“Is he going to…?” Xander couldn’t even bring himself to finish the question.

Tara just shook her head, locks of dishwater blonde hair clinging to the wet tears on her cheeks.

And the otherworldly watcher found itself moved by the same horror. Xander jerked back in surprise when the three of them were surrounded by the dark green glow, but Tara didn’t even seem to notice, too caught up in watching Spike’s final gasps of pain.

The Other reached out to brush the earth-child’s mind, hoping to make all better again, but what it felt there shocked and horrified it even more.

 _All my fault. If only I hadn’t made that stupid wish. I always knew that all magic has consequences, but… Oh goddess, no. Please not Spike. I love him so much, and it’s all my fault this happened…_

 _Not your fault, earth-child_ , the Other responded. _It was our magic. We did not mean to hurt you with it._

 _Wh-Who are you?_ Tara’s mental voice sounded distant, frightened.

 _A well-wisher. We only thought to make you happy._

 _He’s going to die. I love him, and I don’t have the power to save him anymore. All these stupid Slayer abilities, and I can’t even save the man I love…_

 _Your demon-love is not dead yet._ The dark green light paled in response to that, turning a blinding and pure white for an instant. A light that made the entire cemetery seem to glow with its radiance.

Tara, Xander, Willow, Anya, Dawn from her window, and an injured Lilani who had just safely pulled the crossbow bolt from her chest – all recoiled at the brightness of it. For one instant, they shielded their eyes. And then, the next moment, the light was gone, and it was as if the otherworldly intruder had never been there.

Tara gasped in amazement as she felt the mystical energies flowing through her veins once more. Instantly, her fingers returned to Spike’s temples, and her consciousness surrounded his mind, found the source of his agony almost instantly, and blanketed it with a woven cushion of magic. His body stilled in her arms in relief, and her eyes squeezed more tightly shut, keeping the mental shields in place around his chip. It fired painfully and repeatedly against the barrier she’d erected, but she’d long since learned to distance herself from any feedback. She remained aware of the shocks, of their slowly decreasing intensity as the chip finally concluded that it had been successful in killing the vampire it was programmed to rein in…

Eyes gleaming blue once more, Lilani rose on her hands, her magics already healing her body. She felt new strength flowing through her, and it would only be a matter of time before she took out the… Her mind faltered for a second before it fully adjusted once more to the proper reality. …Before she took out that damned redheaded witch and all her little cronies…

As she rose, however, she found herself faced with her most powerful foe, who – in this world – had been able to recover from the attack on her mind in barely a heartbeat.

“I don’t think so,” Willow informed Lilani matter-of-factly, eyes darkened to the purest black at the power that flowed through her body.

Lilani moved to summon another lightning bolt; Willow was faster. With a final scream, the dark mage shuddered against the arcs of black energy before collapsing to the ground, never to be a threat to anyone again.

With marked difficulty, Willow forced back the dark magic that ran through her veins and turned back to the matter at hand. Her breath practically caught in her throat as she saw Tara bent over Spike in her silent vigil. It took Willow only one moment to realize the truth. _She loves him…_

It wasn’t as painful a realization as Willow would’ve thought. She and Tara had long since given up hope of getting back together. And, while Willow would always have a special place for Tara in her heart, it didn’t hurt that her former lover had moved on. But to _Spike_? Shock pervaded Willow’s being at _that_ bizarre twist of fate.

Tara’s feelings were quite plain on her face, though, and Willow wondered that she hadn’t noticed it before. Not that it _ever_ would’ve occurred to her to look, of course.

“Will he be all right?” she asked cautiously when Tara finally sat up once more.

Tara nodded nervously under her curtain of hair. “Th-The chip’s stopped firing. It would’ve killed him…”

Her voice sounded so naked and ragged with emotion that Willow couldn’t help but kneel down beside her and offer her ex-lover her arms. The two witches clung together for a moment, Tara fighting with frightened tears and Willow trying to absorb what had happened over the last day.

Beside them, Xander breathed a sigh of relief that Spike was alive for now. He gave the vampire a nervous, apologetic pat on the shoulder before getting up and turning to his wife.

Anya looked frazzled and very, very weary. “You see why I don’t want to raise our children in this town?” she said weakly.

He just nodded and held her to him. “God, I’m so sorry, Ahn,” he pleaded with her. “I don’t know what was wrong with me under that spell, but—”

“Don’t,” she cut him off. “That wasn’t real. You don’t have to apologize for what you _might’ve_ done in another universe…”

He smiled at her, always surprised by the odd things she could be so forgiving about. “Have I told you lately that I love you?”

She smiled in response and clung to him hard.

Leaving the last of their group well and completely confused. “Uh…I hate to break up the love-fest,” Rona began cautiously, “but what the hell’s been going on all day?”

Tara retreated from Willow’s embrace back to Spike, and the redhead rose with a weary sigh. “I’ll tell you on the way home,” she promised…

* * *

“Is there anything else I can do?” Xander asked Tara as she slipped out of her bedroom and shut the door quietly behind her. He was practically wringing his hands with anxiety.

Tara yawned and shook her head. “I did a quick healing spell on him. It was all I had energy for.”

“I-I could call Willow to come back,” Xander offered hastily.

Tara shook her head and gave him a soft smile. “I’m sure Willow’s feeling a bit burned out tonight, too,” she assured him, heading back to the living room.

Behind Dawn’s door she could hear Anya’s perky voice saying something that involved the words ‘suck’ and ‘tongue’. Tara had high suspicions the ex-Vengeance Demon was teaching her teenage ward how to give blowjobs. She didn’t interfere, though. After all, Dawn would eventually have to hear about all that stuff, and better that Dawn learn it from someone as enthusiastic as Anya than from Tara who had no experience in such matters whatsoever.

Xander followed Tara to the living room, hands clasping and unclasping anxiously.

“It’s all right,” she insisted sympathetically.

“Is it?” he countered. “I mean, I upset you enough that you went off and cast some crazy spell.”

Tara frowned at that, and a comforting hand came to rest on his forearm. “This wasn’t your fault,” she insisted. “You shouldn’t blame yourself just because I like having you in town. A-And it wasn’t entirely that that provoked this, anyway.” She shook her head. “To think that I’ve been warning Willow about being more careful all this time, and then I go out and cause just as much trouble…”

Xander, still caught up in her first words, took a deep breath and collapsed upon the couch. “You don’t want me and Anya to leave.” He stated it as a matter of fact.

Tara bit her lower bit and sat down across from him. “I-I’ll miss you both when you go,” she clarified. Her head ducked shyly, she scrutinized her fingernails studiously. “I don’t want to loose some of the few good friends I’ve ever had, but…I understand why you both want to go, and I’m h-happy for you…” She trailed off, embarrassed at her admissions.

Xander couldn’t help but smile. She had to be the most kind-hearted person he’d ever met, and he’d always known it was hard for her to express opinions like this. “Thanks,” he assured her. “I mean, it’s good to know that you’re not going to break down or anything. And Ahn and I will miss you, too.”

She smiled softly at that. “It was just a thought,” she replied. “How it would be nice if Buffy were back and everyone was a family once more. But I never meant for it to come true. You and Anya need to live your lives together.”

Xander sighed at that. “That was what Buffy said, you know. Right before she died. That we should live our lives.” His brow furrowed in thought for a moment. “I’m not proud of the way I behaved when I thought you were Buffy,” he admitted ruefully.

“You were just trying to protect me,” Tara insisted.

“No,” he countered, “I was trying to dictate your life. It… It was like I was stuck in permanent high-school mode. Almost like I was still this love-struck kid with fairy-tale ideas and…” He trailed off helplessly. “I think I kind of grew up when Buffy died, you know? Realized how important the love I had was and learned that I didn’t need some fantasy to be happy. I have the woman I want.”

Tara smiled at the sentiment. “Have you told Anya that?” she encouraged.

“Every night,” he promised. “And it’s scary to think that if Buffy had lived, I might never have…” He hands flailed in the air helplessly for a moment. “… _Grown up_ ,” he finally concluded.

“It was just some spell,” she assured him. “There’s no guarantee that that’s the way things would’ve worked out.”

“I hope you’re right,” Xander shook his head. “And I was absolutely _horrible_ to Spike. Did I actually treat him like that when Buffy was around?”

Tara shrugged helplessly.

Xander grimaced in response. “He didn’t deserve that. In fact, for a vampire he’s not half bad. Hell, Ahn and I each owe him our lives dozens of times. I’d like to think that I’m a good enough person that I would recognize that no matter what the circumstances.” He paused momentarily. “I may be completely clueless here, but if I’m not…I wish the two of you the best of luck.”

Tara blushed horribly at that but was fortunately saved by the arrival of Anya and Dawn.

“I’m tired,” Anya announced bluntly. “Can we call to discuss Tara’s vampire orgasms tomorrow?”

Dawn giggled at that, and Xander gave Tara an apologetic look as the two of them said their good-byes. Tara felt her own weariness overcome her once they were gone, and she wished Dawn a hasty goodnight as well. The teenager obviously had a lot she wanted to discuss, but she merely gave Tara a quick goodnight peck on the cheek and decided it could wait until morning.

It felt as though a palpable weight had been lifted from Tara’s shoulders once she was alone once more. No more responsibilities, people watching her or expecting things from her. Not to mention how wonderful it felt to be at home in her own body once more. Although she did rue the loss of physique that had come with the Slayer territory. As she passed the hall mirror, it was only too clear that her body was dumpy once more.

She went into her bedroom under the pretense of getting blankets so that she could sleep on the living room couch while her bed was occupied. However, as she saw the vampire lying in her bed, even she couldn’t fool herself as to where she wanted to spend the night.

After all, she spent so much effort doing the right thing all the time, would it really hurt to take something for herself just this once? She might even offer him some comfort and warmth in return.

Refusing to overanalyze it, she slipped under her covers and sidled up against Spike’s still body. He really did seem dead then – completely motionless – but she knew that the man she’d come to know was still in there, and surprisingly his stillness didn’t bother her at all. It was simply part of what he was.

Head resting comfortably on the pillow beside him, she quickly fell into a deep, restful sleep.

And equally peaceful were the two nights after that. On the third morning, she even got the encouraging sign that Spike had moved in his sleep during the night, and she’d awoken to the pleasant sensation of his arm wrapped around her waist and his nose nuzzled against her throat.

She’d returned home excitedly that evening and had gone directly to her room to further monitor Spike’s condition. And that was when she got the disappointment of her life. Apparently, everything was completely back to normal now.

Because Spike was gone.


	6. Come On, Baby, Light My Fire

As if in mockery of her troubles, the History Channel had decided to rerun ‘The History of Sex’ that night. Vain channel surfing had reinforced the notion that absolutely nothing else of value was on. And, in a self-suffering sort of way, Tara was almost pleased by the night’s entertainment. At least it wasn’t ‘All Hitler, All The Time’ for once…

With a little sigh, Tara sat back against the cushions she’d set up on the floor in front of the couch and took a sip of her wine. She’d never been much of a drinker, but she’d bought the bottle for Thanksgiving dinner, which she’d hosted this year, and a little bit of relaxation from her conscience and heart’s constant bemoaning never hurt.

Dawn was away at a friend’s that evening, and Tara was surprisingly glad that she was able to mourn in peace. Dawn had offered to stay home, of course, when she’d heard that Spike had left. But Tara didn’t particularly feel like a girl’s night. She felt like being alone.

Which was why she groaned when she heard the knock on her door. Probably Dawn back home early after another tiff with Kat. She got up from her comfortable nest of cushions and wearily opened the door, the obligatory chiding about forgotten keys already at her lips.

“’lo, luv.”

Tara stood, frozen with numb shock and a sort of overwhelming terror when she saw him.

“Uh…” Spike was puzzled momentarily by her complete lack of response but tried to brush it aside. “Can I come in or not?”

Tara belatedly realized she was standing fully in the doorway. With a little blush, she moved to one side and gestured for him to enter, keeping her eyes firmly fastened to her feet the entire time. Goddess, why had she wanted to see him, again? Hadn’t she realized how incredibly awkward this would be?

“Bit go to Sandra’s party tonight?” he inquired casually, removing his duster and hanging it neatly on one of the hooks by the door. Without even needing to be asked anymore, he kicked off his muddy boots as well.

“Y-Yes,” she stammered out, hopelessly embarrassed by her shaky tone.

He gave her a small smile, which she completely missed in her intense study of her shoes. He sighed and tried again. “TV night to yourself, then?”

“Right.” She felt marginally better that the word came out clearly. But, goddess, what was wrong with her? She’d never had any difficulty talking to him before. Maybe this was why she wasn’t meant to like men…

“Saw this program when it first came out,” he commented casually, plucking a cherry Tootsie Pop from the bowl on the coffee table. Strict no smoking rules in the Maclay house, so they’d had to find some other treat for his oral fixation.

“Me, too.” She shrugged and returned to her spot on the floor, finishing off the last of her wine in one gulp.

He frowned at that, studying her disinterested manner with a growing pang in his heart. “You want me to leave?” he asked gruffly. More of a statement than a question, really.

Tara looked up at him for the first time then, and was shocked to find a fear similar to what she was feeling in his eyes. “No,” she quickly reassured him.

He stood still behind the couch, just watching her.

“I mean, stay,” she clarified, gesturing to the place beside her on the floor.

She didn’t miss the shy smile that curved his lips this time as he settled beside her. She found herself mesmerized by the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he lowered himself. Felt her pulse race when his knee brushed hers. Felt her mouth start to water at the way his lips licked and sucked at the sweet red confection between them. Goddess, he was so beautiful, and all she wanted in the world right then was to be able to brush that one persistent platinum curl back off of his forehead and hold him close…

“Stopped by Harris’ this afternoon,” he commented when she’d muted the TV for the next commercial break.

Her cheeks flushed. “Xander wanted me to apologize to you for him.”

He snorted at that and bit through the lollipop with an audible crunch. “Heard the ‘I’m sorry’s all day. Ponce,” he insisted with an affectionate look that told her he didn’t really mean the insult. “He should know by now that people can’t be held responsible for what spells make ‘em do. He was actually afraid I wouldn’t forgive him. Had to spend the whole afternoon straightenin’ him out and watchin’ American football.” His nose wrinkled in distaste, letting her know what he thought of the sport.

“Yeah well, some spells are easier to forget than others,” she replied.

He nodded in agreement. “Once got engaged to Buffy under one of Red’s spells,” he commented carefully. “That one was rough afterwards. Still not sure I ever got completely over it.” Finished with his sucker, he flicked the stick across the room.

Tara watched, impressed as always, when it landed neatly in the wastebasket. It also gave her something else to think about besides his words. She should’ve known that, no matter what happened, she could never compete with Buffy… “Oh,” was all she managed to say in response.

“Quite an emotional roller coaster, that,” he added. “Havin’ someone care about you more than anyone ever has in your whole bleedin’ existence. And then havin’ that same person look at you in disgust only hours later, like even considerin’ loving you in the worst abomination on earth…” He picked up the wine bottle from the table and, with one deep swig, emptied it of the two inches of burgundy liquid that had been remaining.

“I thought you were trying to stop drinking,” she pointed out.

He nodded and set the wine bottle back down, already wishing he’d found a more pain-numbing liquor. “Fortification,” he countered.

“Fortifi—?”

Her question was cut off when his lips abruptly caught hers in a sensual kiss. She only had one second to be surprised before her lips parted against his and her hands reached up to tangle in his hair, pulling his entire body against hers. The tip of his tongue played lightly on her lips, stroking her own tongue when she came out to meet him but not invading her mouth in any way.

It took her a moment to settle into the sweet rhythm of his kiss. He wasn’t demanding like he had been under the spell. Instead, he was tentative, exploring her responses, letting her make her own discoveries. As if this were their first kiss. Which, in a way, it was.

Tara finally pulled back to catch her breath, and he let out a slow, deep lungful of air as well.

“Thought maybe that part was real,” he offered by way of explanation, sapphirine eyes looking up at her from under long lashes.

As if she suddenly realized that she _could_ touch him, she gave in to her impulses and pulled him in again, this time resting her lips gently on each eyelid as he shut them for her. When she was done, he turned his attention to her throat, lips and tongue playing lightly with the sensitive flesh.

She gasped and held him to her, smiling against his hair as his scent seemed to permeate her being. “That required fortification?” she asked finally, feeling a hidden twinge of delight that he’d agonized over kissing her the same way she had with him.

“Makin’ a pass at a self-proclaimed lesbian?” he countered. “Could’ve downed the whole bottle and still been scared outta my mind.”

She giggled at that. “I think I’m kind of bisexual,” she provided in assurance. “Or… It’s not men in general,” she confessed softly. “It’s just you.”

He brushed hi lips across hers softly before chuckling. “This your way of tellin’ me you think ‘m effeminate?” he teased.

“Oh, no,” she shook her head. “I mean…it m-makes no sense at all. You’re sort of the ultimate of what I shouldn’t want, but…” She trailed off when she realized he was being facetious. “Jerk,” she countered in good humor, giving his shoulder a playful shove.

He fell back in response, pulling her along with him so that she fell across his chest, her long hair spilling over her shoulders. He reached up to run one brunette lock through his fingers, savoring the feel of perfumed silk. “They say love is blind,” he commented, his voice sounding strangely distant.

“What about you?” she countered, her hand instinctively coming to rest on the curve of his jean-clad behind. She’d noticed during their nights together that her hands had an inappropriate tendency to seek out that portion of his anatomy. Fortunately, he didn’t seem to mind. “I thought you were in love with Buffy ‘til the end to time…”

He frowned for a second, fingers still twining absentmindedly in her hair. “When someone you love leaves you,” he began slowly, his accent turning more formal than his usual gruff tone, “you think you’re going to mourn them forever. I…” An audible gulp as if this subject were still painful to him. “I remember thinkin’ ‘d never be over Dru. But it does fade over time. You keep goin’ and…and someone wonderful comes along that makes you feel like a man again, and you wake up one mornin’ and realize…well, ‘s finally over, and you’ve moved on without even knowin’ it.”

“Spike?” she asked softly, cupping his cheek in one palm.

He shook it off and gestured to the television. “Bloody weird discussin’ this while the origin of contraceptives is going on in the background.”

She laughed at that, too, and got up to turn the television off. When she turned back to him, he’d rolled to his side so that he was facing her, head propped up on one elbow and an enigmatic look in his eyes.

“What?” she asked a bit self-consciously, settling back down beside him.

“’S just…no one’s ever pursued me before,” he admitted shyly. “’m used to doing the chasin’, the wantin’, not being w—” He cut off abruptly, horrified at what he’d almost admitted to her.

It pained her to see the fear of rejection in his eyes. “I want you,” she assured him. A sudden twinge of insecurity swept through her. “B-But that doesn’t mean that you have to pretend that…” She let the words hang in mid-air, already frustrated with herself for saying them. This evening had been shaping up so nicely, and did it really matter that he didn’t feel the same way about her?

“Tara,” he said firmly, seeing her mind drifting and catching her face between his hands to bring her back to him. “Luv…” More softly. Blue-gray met cerulean. “’m gonna tell you the truth, right? You deserve that much after all you’ve been to me.”

She nodded and sighed, steeling herself up for the worst.

“I honestly had no clue you had…feelin’s before that spell,” he confessed. “And here I like to pride myself on readin’ people so well.” A rueful laugh. “Before, I never considered if I would be interested in you, since…well, it seemed too unlikely to contemplate.”

She tried to smile at that, but found it exceedingly difficult.

“So, ‘ve had four days to think on this.” He frowned. “Well, technically, I was unconscious for two and a half, and then that first day was the spell, so ‘ve actually only really had half a day, when you get right down to it, so—”

On another day she might’ve been charmed by his babbling. Today it was too painful. “I get it,” she assured him. “Too fast, need time.” _Probably forever_ , a sour voice added in the back of her head.

He gave her an incredulous look. “It look like ‘m sayin’ no?” he countered, reaching over with his foot to rub against hers sensuously. “What ‘m _trying_ to say,” he continued off her confused look, “is that ‘ve well and thoroughly decided I want to give this a go, because it’s _you_ , pet. And ‘m not quite at love yet, and ‘m being horribly impetuous about it all, which ‘ve been informed is both an endearing and aggravating quality of mine, but…yeah.” He looked down at his fingers and studiously picked at the black nail polish there.

She released a breath she didn’t even know she’d been holding, and her smile came easily this time. “I’m going to go with endearing,” she informed him, leaning in to bury her face in his chest once more. An insecure voice in the back of her mind still had to speak up, however. “Why?”

“Why what?” He stroked her hair affectionately.

“Why me?” she clarified. “I’m not pretty or even attractive, really, not like…”

“Not like Buffy?” he filled in her unspoken words.

She nodded.

“Not pretty?” he demanded a bit sternly. “Where’d you get a silly notion like that? Just because you don’t look like some holocaust victim or a teenage boy in drag like all those bints on TV…” He trailed off when he realized he was going into a bit of a rant. _“And yet by heaven I think my love as rare, / As any she belied with false compare.”_

She giggled. “Thanks for quoting the more flattering lines.”

He snorted. “Truth is, you’re more my type than Buffy, really.” He sighed before continuing more softly. “In my day, beauty was determined by curves…” his hand slid over her thigh, “grace…” he nuzzled her throat affectionately, “and a lovely smile…” He pulled back to look deep into her eyes. “You’re so beautiful, luv,” he said in an awed whisper before leaning in to steal a kiss from her lips.

And, in that moment, she could actually believe it. Could almost see herself through his eyes and knew she was the most beautiful woman in the world. “My room?” she suggested with a gasp when they pulled apart.

His eyes widened at this unexpected boldness. “Are you sure?”

She smiled and traced the sharp line of his jaw. “You make me feel more impulsive,” she provided. “I-I’ve been so shy and cautious all my life, mousy some would say. But you make me want to be more daring, bolder, move _alive_.” Her voice dropped so low it was almost a breath. “That’s part of why I love you.”

He grinned at that and rose. She let out a little yelp when he lifted her up into his arms and clung to him. “Funny,” he countered, “Was just thinkin’ that you do the opposite to me. Give me a sense of inner peace, y’know? Let me talk about things I would never share with anyone else. Make me not ashamed of my quieter impulses.” He walked down the hall to her room as he talked and, with that last statement, nudged the door open with his hip.

She kissed him languidly as he returned her to her feet before taking a step back. With a smile that was supposed to be coy, but she secretly suspected looked more nervous, she pulled her oversized t-shirt over her head. After that, the look in his eyes made her feel anything but nervous.

“So beautiful,” he gulped in awe, stepping into her again and tracing the swell of one breast with his thumb. “Tara, I…” He trailed off, at an uncharacteristic loss of words, and settled for kissing her instead.

Feeling bolder with each slant of his lips against hers, he hands drifted up the back of his jeans, found the hem of his black tee and slipped beneath. His flesh was cool and smooth to her touch, and the muscles flexed and tensed beneath her roving fingertips. His hardness was alien to all her previous sexual encounters, and felt herself growing a bit apprehensive about being with a man. But, at that same time, he felt so good it seemed like she could never grow tired of touching him, of being touched…

“C-Can we just go slow?” she was almost hesitant to ask.

He chuckled at where her right hand had settled back onto his ass. “Look who’s got sneaky, naughty hands,” he teased lightly.

She blushed and moved, but he quickly caught her hand and paced it firmly on his behind once more, encouraging her to give him a gentle squeeze. Her cheeks reddened further, but she smiled, obviously enjoying herself.

“First time with a man?” he guessed.

She nodded. “I’m not sure what to do,” she admitted shyly.

“Do whatever you want,” he advised. “Do what feels good.”

She slipped one hand under his shirt and up his stomach muscles in response. He caught her hind and peeled the shirt slowly from his body. A breathless gasp escaped her lips at the sight of his hard, toned musculature. “So different…” she commented in delight, cautiously reaching out for one flat nipple. She nearly jumped when he moaned in response to her tentative caress.

“But not so much as you’d think,” he countered, pulling her flush up against him so that her breasts flattened against the hard breadth of his chest. “Whattaya say we try something?” he suggested. “Give you a bit of a chance to explore…”

She nodded in lazy contentment, loving the feel of his hard pectoral beneath her cheek.

“Right then. Take off your clothes and sit in the middle of the bed,” he instructed.

“This is slow, how?” she asked skeptically.

“Just trust me,” he promised her.

She couldn’t refuse that rakish grin. Sitting back on the bed, she pulled down her sweatpants, feeling her skin flush at his hungry gaze. _Note for future reference: Appropriate attire for seducing sexy vampires consists of baggy, tie-dyed t-shirts and gray sweats._ Settling herself into the center of her bed, she watched him prowl around the room and light various candles throughout. The flickering light created orange shadows along the sharp lines of his muscles that made her want to taste every inch of his body.

She watched with marked desire as he finally returned to the bed, unfastening his belt and slipping out of his jeans. _So beautiful…_ She’d never imagined she could see a man this way, but there was a certain perfection to his sculptured form that took her breath away.

“Miss me, pet?” he purred seductively, settling beside her.

“Goddess, yes…”

He grinned at that before sitting straight up before her and pulling on her hands so that she mirrored his position. “Here’s how it goes, luv,” he informed her, fingers hovering an inch over the lock of brunette hair that spilled forward over one breast. “No touching.”

“No touching?” she repeated with a quirk of her lips.

“Not for now,” he amended. “Just…” His hand drifted down so that it was scant millimeters from cupping the fullness of her breast. “Just explore where you _want_ to touch, right?”

“Think I can handle that,” she agreed, raising her own right hand so that it almost brushed the hard plane of his pectoral. Her left settled right above the flexed muscles of his forearm.

He gave her a seductive little smile before turning his attention thoroughly to her body. Fingers hovered over her sides, caressing the air up and down in long strokes, before slipping around to her back to trace her spine.

She rose up on her knees, bringing their bodies closer to accommodate him, and marveled at how she could almost feel his phantom caresses. Her own hands traced complicated patterns over his torso, really studying each muscular curve for the first time. Discovering the impossibly sharp lines of his hipbone, the tender scar on his throat, the width of his chest, and… Inevitably, her hands slipped around him to hover just above the tight muscles of his butt. For some reason, feeling him there made her blood run hot, and her inner thighs grow wonderfully damp.

He smirked at her, knowing all too well what he did to her before rising up on his own knees as well, better accommodating her own explorations. His hands were gently following the curves of her inner thighs now, drawing a map of her sex in mid-air.

Cautiously, her own eyes drifted to the portion of his anatomy she’d been studiously avoiding so far. His shaft was thicker than she would’ve imagined, and the bulbous head in particular mesmerized her. Keeping a nervous distance, her fingers traced each side of his erection, every curve and vein and bump. Really _looking_ at him. She was surprised that she found him strangely beautiful, and was even more surprised when her actions caused him to jerk upward, flesh hardening and curving up against his stomach at even her ethereal caresses.

“God, Tara,” he whimpered, breaking the no touching rule by leaning his forehead against her shoulder.

The contact was innocent but after spending so long desperately seeking the faintest and most distant of sensation, it was almost overwhelming. Like molten lava passed through her veins where he touched her.

She groaned and clutched his head against her breasts, fingers playing with white-spun silk. “More…” she breathed, actually allowing her fingers to touch him now, gliding over the bump of each vertebra as she worked her way down.

He whimpered in agreement and pulled her up into his lap, settling her so that she comfortably straddled his lean hips. Her wetness brushed against him accidentally, and he moaned into her hair, his hands finally resting on the fullness of her breasts and kneading them gently. So full and sweet, this woman. Made him harder than anything…

Tara’s hands were in a wild frenzy now, touching every bit of him she could. Like she had been starved for the salt of his skin all her life. She found his erection completely by accident and felt her entire body tingle with the strangled gasp he let out. That had to be the most erotic sound she’d heard in all her life, and she wanted to cause it over and over again. She began stroking him slowly, getting a feel for what drove him wild. It was quite delightful having such a responsive lover, and she knew he must have been feeling the same way about her right now. Goddess, the things he did to her…

The instant her hot little fingers had wrapped around his cock, he’d known that he had to be buried within her and fast. His fingers quit their teasing and began playing with her clit, tracing her outer lips before probing deeper. Her channel was so tight at first, but her slick juices made pushing his first finger inside her easy enough. She let out a little mewling sound when he began stroking in and out of her, and he had to fight from coming right then. Beautiful woman writhing in ecstasy in his lap and pumping her hand around his cock…

Tara felt two fingers slip inside her, three. Stretching her out. Making her ready for him. She felt a momentary panic – _Oh goddess, I’m actually going to have sex with a man_ – followed by an even deeper feeling of excitement and elation – _I can’t believe this is happening. I’m actually going to have sex with Spike. And he’s so beautiful, and he feels so good, and I love him so much…_

“You still good?” he whispered against her cheek. “Ready?”

“Yes…” she whispered against him, following his lead and centering herself right over the tip of his erection. Goddess, her body was shivering with anticipation now, and he hadn’t even—Oh…

With a little push upward, he slipped the head of his cock into her slick channel and was pleased when she welcomed his girth quite easily. God, she was so wet for him… “Best take this nice and slow,” he advised her and reminded himself as well, as her hips began thrusting downwards, taking in more of him with each push.

“Feels so good,” she whimpered against him, a sudden realization coming to her: _So this is why women have sex with men…_

She was looking deep into his eyes now, and he saw the cornflower blue widen when he struck against an unexpected barrier. “Make this as gentle as I can,” he promised apologetically. Then turned to quotes to soothe her. _“‘The other two, slight air, and purging fire’…”_ And he pushed up past her virgin barrier.

Tara gave out a sharp gasp of surprise, but it didn’t hurt as much as she’d anticipated. _“‘Are both with thee, wherever I abide’,”_ she retorted, grateful for something else to think about in these few painful moments.

 _“‘The first my thought, the other my desire’,”_ he purred back, lifting both of them up now and rolling her beneath him, entering her up to the hilt in one long, clean stroke.

“Oh goddess,” she gasped, pain turning quickly to pleasure as he began to rock slowly within her. “So deep…”

His lips brushed hers gently as he felt his pleasure build, twining his fingers intimately with hers. “So hot,” he replied, “feels like ‘m about to burn up, but…Christ, you feel so wonderful…”

 _“‘These present-absent with swift motion slide’,”_ she replied, feeling an overwhelming pressure building in her body.

She became acutely aware of every place their flesh touched in that moment. His fingers linked tightly with hers, giving her something to cling to. His chest, hard, strong, and heavy, pressing hers flat and sliding up and down against her pebbled nipples erotically with each stroke. Lean hips spreading hers open, smooth and graceful against her most sensitive skin. Every inch of velvet-covered-steel as he stretched and parted her inner walls, grinding into a pleasure spot so deep within her that she’d never even felt it before. Coarse curls that ground against her clit, sending twinges of pleasure through her spine in perfect counterpoint to his thrusts. And, finally, brilliant blue eyes, dilated so much with desire they seemed black, looking deep inside her with awe, tenderness, devotion…

She came so slowly, she wasn’t even aware of it at first. Like waves slowly rising ever higher until finally they completely engulfed her, sending her screaming downward like a wild roller coaster, making it impossible to breathe, but she didn’t want to because that meant the ride was finally over and, oh, it was so wonderful while it lasted…

Tara heard Spike cry out her name in ecstasy, felt him fall with her as he spilled his pleasure into her womb, and she clung to him tight. Goddess, she’d never felt this close to anyone before, almost like they were under each other’s skin, merged into one being…

And then, the next moment the world came back to her like a gasp of cold air, and the two of them fell back onto the sheets, limbs still tangled. Slowly she regained her ability to move, and her hands ran over his back and up through his hair, stroking him gently while he lay collapsed on top of her, exhausted.

Finally, he stirred and nuzzled his head into the valley between her breasts. A deep purr rumbled through his chest, and he knew he should be embarrassed by it, but he couldn’t muster up the will at that moment. “Don’t leave me,” his voice came out almost as a whimper, a moment of weakness that he’d never allowed himself before.

Gentle hands stroked away the sweat-soaked curls that clung to his forehead. “I won’t,” she promised softly, even if she didn’t fully understand the cause of his fears. “I love you.”

Those seemed to be the magic words because his purr deepened and he rolled them onto their sides, still buried deep within her body. _“‘Or if they sleep, thy picture in my sight’,”_ he quoted, _“‘Awakes my heart, to heart’s and eye’s delight.’”_

She smiled and shook her head. “That’s final couplet of forty-seven, not forty-five,” she informed him.

“I know,” he countered, “but ‘s more romantic.”

She grinned and shook her head. “How about this? _‘How like a winter hath my absence been / From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!’_ ” She paused. “Do you know how frightened I was when I came back this afternoon and found you gone?”

“Sorry ‘bout that, Tara-luv,” he smiled sheepishly, giving her a sweet kiss in apology. “Had some thoughts to sort out, you know?”

“Yeah,” she agreed, running her knuckles up and down his cheek gently. “I just missed you. And…I didn’t think you’d want me since I wasn’t Buffy anymore…”

“Try this one,” he countered, one eyebrow raised incredulously. “ _‘This above all, to thine own self be true / And it must follow as the night they day / Thou canst not then be false to any man’_?”

“That’s not even a sonnet,” she teased.

“Yeah, well, it was on point,” he conceded.

“Except for the fact that we’re not meant to take Polonius seriously,” she countered.

“That’s highly debatable,” he argued. “Fools are known for makin’ the most prescient comments.”

“But not when the ‘fool’ isn’t named as such in the text.”

“Happens all the time in plays where there’s one standard ‘fool’ and then another.”

“In tragedy? Name one,” she challenged.

“Mercutio?”

“Doesn’t count. ‘Romeo and Juliet’s not a proper tragedy.”

“And now we get into _this_ argument again,” he rolled his eyes.

A sudden giggle escaped her, and he gave her a confused look. “I just can’t believe we’re debating this right now,” she provided, hand coming up to cover her mouth as she laughed.

He pushed it aside so that he could watch her smile, chuckling along with her. “Part of why you never needed Buffy to win me,” he provided huskily. “That’s the sort of thing I could only discuss with you. Evil li’l witch, bringin’ out the nerd in me.”

She smiled and stroked his cheek. “Good to know it’s me.”

He caught her hand and pressed his lips to her palm. “Always you, luv. From now on. Besides,” he added with a wink, “all magic’s got consequences, and I think ‘s about time your suffered yours.”

Her heart raced at the promise in his words, and she kissed him, and then he was rolling over onto her back once more, his tongue caressing her fevered flesh. And she thought, _Maybe next time I see that spirit or whatever, I won’t give it such a hard time. Maybe even a quick thanks for helping me out after all…_

And then she had no time for thoughts at all as he showered her with unimaginable pleasure.


End file.
